The Heirs of the Heirs
by Moxie
Summary: The sequel to Nobles, Orphans, Street rats and Scholars. Please read that first, but other than that, meet the heirs!
1. Poetic Interlude

"This story started as all others, and shall end the same,

The Dark is powerful, but the Light will prevail,

With all the stories told,

Here ends this tale."

And so the legacy ended,

Evil was no more,

The Game had been played,

And who else came on top, but the four?

Years came and went,

The sun rose and sank,

The air was warm and peaceful,

And they lived happily ever after, or so you'd think.

Evil always has a heir,

For that is the way it goes,

Darkness never is eliminated,

When it is defeated, it only grows.

But the fabled four are now older,

Not as young as they used to be,

Still, they have their pride about them,

Too strong, too proud to flee.

Ah, but you see,

Evil will be subject for defeat,

When you have,

Children of the four to meet.

From the shadows,

Softly creeping,

Something unpleasant,

Is found sneaking.

They don't know, but they soon will,

The kind of mess they're in,

The children of the heirs,

Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.

A/N: Well, it's official. I have flipped my lid. I've gone over the mountain, through the roof, completely nuts. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm fixing to do a sequel to Nobles, Orphans, Street rats and Scholars. Yup. Moxie's totally lost it. I don't deny it. -_-;; *muses* Of course, if you don't want me to do a sequel... that's okay too... *whistles* There is only one way for me to figure out if this is what you want me to do, you know. *cough* hint hint: review. *cough* Well... that's it for now... for now, that is... *grins evilly*

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: Everything in this story belongs to me! Ha! Ha ha! *sorry. No-disclaimer-associated-with-story-jubilation setting in. ^_^;;*


	2. The Reunion

__

I may be in different form,

Although I am the same,

Disguised in a surname, I am born,

What is in a name?

# # #

__

England...

The blue Corvette zipped through the dirt roads, whirling up a large cloud of brown dust as it did so. Susan wasn't entirely sure what the speed limit was through these parts, but she was sure that her mother was going about fifty miles over it. 

Stretching as far away from the leather interior as possible, Susan reached over the windshield to feel the wind whistle through her fingers. The weather was very warm, and the sky was almost as blue as the car itself, so it had been voted that the top of the car be put down, even if it meant black curls whipping in Susan's face.

Susan's mother seemed to be enjoying the ride about as much - if not more - than Susan was herself. With one hand her mother steered the car, and with the other, she thumped on the side of the blue plating, as if urging it to go faster.

"I haven't seen these people in over ten years!" Susan's mother yelled over the din that the wind was making. "Not since your father deemed it necessary we move to Canada!"

Susan groaned. Her mother and father had recently been divorced, and the bitterness of it all was rather overwhelming to Susan's ten-year-old self.

"Let's not think of that," Susan shouted in reply, "I want to meet your friends!"

Susan's mother grinned largely, reached down to put the car in a higher gear, and zoomed down the road. She was one of the few, the proud, the Hogwarts alumni. Susan was also a witch, but she hadn't started her training yet. Her mother had been assuring her that she would get into Hogwarts also, and that they would be househunting soon so they could live near the area.

The car was at its breaking limits and the world blurred together as Susan's curls felt like they would be pulled straight out of their roots. She whooped with delight as her mother giggled helplessly.

"We're almost there," she cried to her daughter. Susan bounced in her leather seat.

"Faster, Mommy, faster!"

Susan's mother was only too happy to oblige.

# # #

__

The Party Room of the Leaky Cauldron...

Carolyn sighed as she speared a cherry in her drink with a toothpick. Grownup parties could get very boring, she had decided. Nobody else had brought his or her children yet, as almost nobody had been there. She thrust her Shirley Temple to the side and watched the people there chat.

Her little brother, Rob, walked up to her and looked down. "Bored?" he asked in an innocent voice. Carolyn sneered at him and pushed her drink to the side again so viciously that it tipped over. Red liquid spilt all over the place.

"Bored," she said roughly, "is an understatement." She put her head down on the table that she sat at, as Rob produced a handkerchief and began to attempt to sop up the carbonated mess.

"You _could_ go and try to make conversation with some of the adults," Rob suggested, wringing out his cherry-stained handkerchief. Carolyn looked at him.

"You would go and do that, wouldn't you, Robert?" she asked in an accusing voice that one might use to address an axe murderer. Rob shrugged and pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"It's more interesting than moping, I can assure you," he said, watching as a servant came over. With a flick of his wand, the red mess was gone. He leaned over to Carolyn.

"Beverage, miss?" he asked. Carolyn shook her head.

"No."

The waiter turned his face to Rob. "For you, young sir?"

"I could use a butterbeer, if you please," Rob replied politely. The waiter picked up an empty silver platter, twirled it on his index finger three times, and bent down to Rob. There was a bottle of butterbeer, a bottle-opener, and a frosted glass on the formerly empty platter. Rob took the butterbeer can and twirled the top off with his hands. He put the bottlecap back on the tray and nodded to the servant.

"I don't need the glass, if you please." The waiter nodded and walked off. Rob took a pull of the butterbeer, eyeing his sister. "Please don't call me Robert," he said with perfect nonchalantness. "I despise being called by my full name." He walked off into the crowd, and Carolyn grunted and put her head back between her hands.

# # #

_Metro Airport..._

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not, did not, did not!"

"Did too, did too, did too!"

"Did not times infinity!"

"Did too times infinity and one!"

"Did not times infinity and two!"

"There is no such thing as infinity and two!"

"Oh, and there is such a thing as infinity and one?!"

"You can't even _use_ infinity in an argument! It's not logical!"

"Logical my-"

"What in the name of thunder is going on here?" roared a man, lugging two large suitcases behind him. The two squabbling children pointed at each other.

"Grace stole my pencil!"

"Gerald's lying! I wouldn't steal that ratty pencil if my life depended upon it!"

"Would too!"

"Would not!"

"Would-"

"If everybody doesn't shut up _this instant_, I am going to introduce everybody to the back of my hand!" a woman yelled, toting a makeup case. The two children fell silent. They knew that their mother was only kidding, but the airlines put her in a bad mood, and that wasn't fun for anybody.

"Sorry, Grace," muttered the boy.

"Ditto, Gerald," the girl mumbled.

"That's better," their father crooned to his offspring, looking at an airport personnel, who looked rather frightened. "Where are the rental muggl- I mean, rental cars, good sir?"

"Down that hallway to the left," the man in uniform squeaked. The man nodded. 

"Thank you. Kids, grab a bag and let's go."

There was a brief but silent squabble over who got the lighter bag, the foursome tromped down the crowded airport terminal, pushing their way through the myriad of people. Gerald leaned over and whispered in his sister's ear.

"Mum is suffering from some _serious_ PMS."

Grace giggled and nodded. They walked past a couple in terminal 3A, who were kissing intently. "PDA alert!" she hissed back at her brother, discreetly motioning to the couple. Gerald chuckled softly.

There is much to entertain a body who ever cares to stop and take a look around a muggle airport, the twins noticed immediately. People running from the airplanes into lover's arms; the cult members ragging people for money, the people trying to get bumped from their flights in exchange for free hotel time and coupons. They took this all in, until they turned into a small booth that said _'National Car Rental'_ across the top. A short, greasy looking man that was filing his nails looked up. His mouth widened in a put-on smile.

"Welcome to National Car Rental. You have made the very best choice in fine car rental..." 

The twins' mother lost her temper. She slammed her free hand, palm down upon the countertop, making the man jump. "Cut the crap. We need a car, and we need it now," she spat.

After a near two hours of haggling and picking lint off of their sweaters, the twins were beginning to get impatient. Grace moaned.

"How long can it take to rent a car?" she asked. Gerald was preoccupied by watching an ant slowly crawl its way across the seat of his chair, so he didn't respond.

Finally, their parents burst through the door, looking triumphant and carrying keys in their hands. Gerald leapt out of the chair.

"What car did you get? Is it a sports car?" he asked excitedly. His parents exchanged sideways looks.

"Not exactly," his father said finally.

When they made their way out to the large parking lot, Gerald was much dismayed to find that the car was not a Corvette or a Mustang, but a very old, somewhat tarnished, beige Ford Taurus. He wailed.

"Aw, Ma, couldn't you get anything other than that?" he whimpered, looking at the axles of the car, which looked like they would fall into two at any moment. His mother scowled.

"It's a car, and we can drive it. Get in." Gerald thought better than to argue.

The ride was a long one. The car didn't seem to be able to function properly over the speed of fifty, and the radio didn't work. What made it worse was that it smelt like somebody's old gym bag. The entire family was enveloped in stony silence.

"I can't wait until we get there," their mother said wistfully.

"Neither can I," Grace and Gerald chorused in a whisper.

# # #

__

Sherry Ville, 173 Shady Lane...

"Are you _sure_ that you don't need help?" the voice asked for the millionth time.

Helen scowled. She whirled around and placed her hands on her hips, facing the voice. "Mother, I swear. I'm not an invalid. I can take care of myself." It was at this time she whirled around too fast and lost her balance. A pair of strong, firm hands grasped her and kept her from falling headfirst into the garden.

Pride hurt; Helen shook her mother off, and felt her way to the door expertly. Even though she couldn't see it, she heard her mother sigh briefly, walk around to the side of the van, and insert the key into the lock. The unlocking sound sounded, and Helen sat down, shut the door, and grabbed the seatbelt with the precision of practice. She fitted the clip into the slot that held the seatbelt, heard the click, and tugged at it gently to make sure it locked. Folding her hands in her lap, she waited.

"Christopher, sweetie, come on!" her mother called from the window. Helen smiled. She loved the sound of her mother's voice. So melodic.

"Coming, Mummy!" her little brother called. Little footsteps clattered on the pavement, the door opened, and Helen heard her brother's ragged breaths - he had been running. The seatbelt clicked, and her mother started the ignition. The sensation of movement swept Helen over as they backed out of the driveway. They stopped - Helen felt the engine gutter - and went forward. After a few moments, Helen cocked her head to the side, and turned her head in the direction of her mother.

"Mum, what's out there?"

Helen's sensitive ears heard the squeak of the rearview mirror as her mother adjusted it, and the affectionate sigh that rattled from her lips. "I see rows of houses in all colors - creamy blue, rough brick, Slytherin green..."

"Slytherin green?" she asked. Her mother laughed.

"It's a very dark green, almost black in some respects."

Helen nodded sagely. "Evil green?"

There was a short lull in the conversation as her mother considered. "In some respects, yes. But even in the midst of that, there are some good people. One of them was one of my best friends during school. Sarcastic, yes. Cutting, sometimes. Loyal, yes. In her own way, she was almost... oh, well, you'll meet her soon."

Helen smiled. She had heard the tale many times. She had read it in the textbooks, heard about in the movies. It gave her unspeakable pride to think that she was related to one of those 'fabled four' as they were often called. She was ready to meet the other three of this quartet. She also wanted to meet the often forgotten 'fifth wheel', also known as Samantha Chenelle Bronxton.

Helen settled back into the comfy plush of the van, and shut her eyes. The smooth movement of the van, and her mother's driving were enough to ease her into sleep.

# # #

__

The Leaky Cauldron...

The Ford Taurus rattled into the parking lot of the Leaky Cauldron. There was a huge crowd of people waiting, and the most of them turned their noses up at the sight of a ratty muggle car. Gerald and Grace scuttled out of the car as fast as the unbuckling of seatbelts and opening of doors would allow them.

The old van glided into the parking lot after that. The automobile gave a tired, patient sigh as it rumbled to a stop. Christopher leapt out of the side door and waited for his mother. Helen followed, a bit slower, and then placed a hand on the side mirror of the car, to gain her rights to the place. Her mother followed her, getting Helen (much to her grumbles and complaints) to place a hand on her forearm so she wouldn't stumble.

Lastly, the blue Corvette screeched in, leaving black tire tracks, and a smell of singed rubber to hang in the air. Gerald squeaked and ran over to it.

Gently pressing his hands against the blue plating, he dropped to his feet and rubbed his cheek against the warm car. "Oh, a 2018 Corvette, leather interior, ABS brakes, horsepower more that I could ever count... oh, _hum_ to me, girl."

He was soon aware of two raven-haired women looking good-naturedly at him. "Like the car, kid?" asked the older girl.

Gerald blushed hotly and clasped his hands behind his back. He was too embarrassed to say anything, so he just nodded.

"Maybe I'll give you a spin in 'er later. Right now I've got to..."

"Sarah?!" an ecstatic voice screeched from behind the black-haired woman's shoulder. Gerald peered around the woman to see his mother. "Sarah Slytherin, you old renegade, is that you?!"

"In the flesh," the woman replied giddily, leaping over the Corvette's door. "And if it isn't Gabriel Gryffindor. It's been so _long_," Sarah said, enveloping Gabriel in a hug. Grace came over.

"Who is that?" she asked, pointing to the woman that her mother was embracing. Gerald opened his mouth to answer, but his mother interrupted him.

"Aw, Sarah, these are my two little pain in the asses, Gerald and Grace Finnigan," she said. Sarah looked the twin brother and sister over. They were both spitting images of their mother, tan skin, with bright gold, slightly curly hair. The only difference was they had inherited their father's bright blue eyes.

"Kids," Gabriel went on, "this was arguably my best friend in Hogwarts, Sarah Slytherin."

The kids looked over the tall, almost spindly, gray-eyed woman. She had hair that curled so dramatically that it reminded them of black slinkys.

"Gerald and Grace, eh?" Sarah asked, looking them over sharply, but with a quasi-friendly look about her. She nodded at the Corvette, where a girl peered over the back of the seat at them.

She looked a lot like her mother, with black hair, but the hair wasn't as curly - just very full. Her skin was a few tones darker, and she had bright green eyes as opposed to the gray ones of her dam.

"I could only handle one of 'em," Sarah said, winking at her daughter while she stuck out her tongue at her mother. "That's 'me girl, Susan Harrisfer."

Gabriel wrinkled her nose and looked around the Corvette. "Where is your husband?" It was evidently a sore spot, because Sarah snorted and her gray eyes turned to gunmetal.

"That asshole? Don't get me started."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Sarah, do you still get your kicks out of making other people look bad?" a voice asked.

Sarah stiffened a tad, smiling. "It's my prime source of enjoyment." She turned around. "_Hayley_."

Though a little older, and a little wider, Hayley's bright green eyes smiled at them all from behind a pair of glasses. Her wavery copper locks had been twisted and pinned in a bun, and she adjusted her spectacles with her free hand. On her other arm was a girl.

The girl stood rather stiffly, before reaching out a hand timidly to touch the warm car where everybody had conjugated. She had light; straight brown hair that did not come from her mother that sat primly at her shoulderblades. Her eyes were a very vivid blue, but they seemed more smoky - it was like looking at two sapphires through an early-morning haze. Everybody looked at her quizzically, before the girl spoke.

"My name is Helen," she said clearly, noting the sudden, confused silence that had fallen on their part of the party. "And if you didn't notice already, I'm also blind."

This only caused more silence on everybody else's part, before Gabriel reached out and took Helen's hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Helen."

Helen steadied herself on Gabriel's strong fist, and reached up cautiously towards her face. With sensitive fingertips she ran her hand over the bridge of Gabriel's nose, her hair, and face. She did the same with Sarah when she introduced herself and with Susan, Grace, and Gerald.

"This is my younger son, Christopher," Hayley went on. The little boy shyly hid his head in his mother's robes, mumbling into the cloth, probably his hellos.

"It's about time you showed up," a high-pitched voice said, "Robert's been going nearly insane for hours."

Sarah whirled around, to come face-to-face with a woman with very blonde hair and brown eyes. She was smiling good-naturedly at them all, and Sarah raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry, but you don't really ring a bell in my mind-"

"Hannah Abbot, that's you isn't it?" Hayley said, cutting Sarah off. Sarah looked rather reproachful, and snapped her jaw shut resentfully at being interrupted.

"Hannah Ravenclaw now, if you get my drift," Hannah said, winking. Gabriel clapped a hand over her mouth, as well as Sarah.

"You're _joking_," Gabriel said disbelievingly. Hannah shook her head.

"Nope."

Sarah, once again, looked reproachful, though more than before. "Why wasn't I invited to the wedding?! The last one I got invited to was Gabriel's!"

Hannah blushed slightly. "Sincere apologies, Shana..."

"It's Sarah," Sarah snapped.

"Sarah. We couldn't locate you... you had left England."

"I moved to Canada, because my git of a husband's job moved. I thought I told everybody that!"

"Yes, Sarah dearest," Gabriel interjected, rubbing her temples, as all adults do when they get annoyed, "but you neglected to tell us exactly _where_ you were in Canada. It's not like it's a small place, you know."

Sarah's mouth worked, but no sound came out. Finally, she shut her jaws, blushing uncomfortably. "Well, I guess I did forget that _minor_ detail." It was at this that everybody burst into peels of laughter.

"If only I knew what was so funny."

"Oh, Robert, over here!" Hannah called, waving a hand. A short while later, Robert strode up, flanked by two children.

Robert looked nearly the same as he did ten years ago, with the slight change of the additional two feet of height. He was _tall_.

"It's good to see everybody," he said, smiling. Sarah gaped for a moment, before rolling her eyes in the back of her head.

"Oh, and it's _good_ to see you too," she said, looking up at him. "Give me a hug, you oversized human dictionary."

He was rather forced to comply, because Sarah, while shorter than Robert, was nonetheless quite strong. 

Once the embraces were done, Robert nodded to his children. "These are Carolyn and Robert II. Carol, Rob, these are Sarah, Hayley, Gabriel and Sarah. I'm sure you've heard of them before.."

After everybody had been introduced to each other for a fourth time, the adults wandered off to find their other friends, while the children sat in the Corvette, looking at each other.

"So," Susan said, feeling rather uncomfortable, "how is everybody?"

It was a lame way to start a conversation, and she knew it, but nobody else could think of anything to say.

"I'm fine," Rob said, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Pretty good," Helen said, grasping at the shift of the vehicle.

"Bored," chorused Grace and Gerald. Everybody giggled nervously.

There was more silence in the back of the car, before Susan recognized her mother's voice again: "Draco? _Malfoy?_ Is that _you_? My God, I thought you were your _father_!"

There was a humming of amusement at this, and Susan blushed slightly.

"Is she always like that?" Grace asked, looking at Susan, who blushed deeper.

"What?"

"Your mum," Gerald picked up, "she's completely nuts!"

"What's it to you?" Susan asked, temper starting to flare. Helen sighed quietly.

"Oh, do shut up," she said, "it's not worth getting all angry about."

Rob, feeling rather dismayed, leaned back against the steering wheel, and put his hand over the dashboard. He didn't seem to notice that Sarah had accidentally left the keys in the ignition. His hand brushed over the radio button, and he switched it on.

__

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Jonnie Ray,

South Pacific, Walter Winchell Joe DiMaggio... 

Rob nearly leapt three feet in the air. "Who is that?!" he yelled over to Susan. Susan shouted something back, but he couldn't hear it over the next verse in the song.

__

Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, Television,

North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe....

"What?" he shouted over the din of the music. He distinctly saw Susan roll her eyes in the back of her head before she shouted again.

"It's Billy Joel!"

__

Rosenbergs, H-Bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom,

Brando, The King and I and the Catcher in the Rye...

"I don't get it," Helen yelled, clapping her hands over her sensitive ears. "What's it about?"

"Stuff that's happened over the years," Susan hollered. "If you listen, you'd be able to figure it out!"

__

Eisenhower, Vaccine, England's got a new queen,

Marciano, Liberace, Santayanna,

Goodbye...

"Those darn kids!" Gabriel shouted, looking down at Sarah. "Sarah, should I tell them to get out of your car? Sarah?"

Sarah appeared too busy at the moment to care - she was jumping rope with some of the kids of the people they knew, and her old friend, Essex. She turned around to Gabriel and stuck out her tongue.

"I can jump better than yoooou caaaaan!" she taunted as her feet skipped over the rope.

"I swear, Sarah, when are you going to grow up?" Gabriel asked. Sarah just smiled.

"Whenever you do, Gabby. Come on!"

But Gabriel needed no second urging. Much to the delight of the children that were turning the rope, Gabriel leaped in, and the magical rope expanded to compensate for her jumping distance.

Robert and Hayley were watching them with interest. "You know what, Hayley?" Robert asked, helping himself to a cherry cordial.

"What?"

"The more things change, the more they stay the same, you know?" he said, pointing to Sarah and Gabriel, who were trying to outjump each other.

Back in the Corvette, the song that Billy Joel was singing was a very long one, so the five of them were screaming the reprise at the top of their lungs, just adding to the noise of the party, which had since moved outside.

__

We didn't start the fire,

It was always burning,

Since the world's been turning,

We didn't start the fire,

No, we didn't light it, 

But we tried to fight it...

"Look at that," Hayley said, pointing over to the car, where the five children were belting out the song.

"That looks familiar," Sarah said, red faced from jumproping.

Gabriel sighed. "I think it's going to be a long year for them."

Robert laughed. "A long year for them? What do you think, being the heirs of the heirs?"

__

We didn't start the fire,

It was always burning,

Since the world's been turning on us,

We didn't start the fire,

But when we are gone,

Will it burn on, and on, and on, and on...?

A/N: Well... sorry it's so slow. It should pick up later, hopefully. And no, I haven't forgotten about Chenelle/Samantha, so be patient!

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: 'We didn't start the fire' belongs to Billy Joel. Every character or name that appears in the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling, and everybody else belongs to me. Okay? Good. ^_^


	3. The Sequel to the Sequel

__

Pffist. Click. Pffist. Those were the sounds of Susan Harrisford; enjoying her muggle television set and squirting whipped cream in her mouth. It was a fun pastime, she had decided, ever since moving into their new penthouse.

"Susan?" Sarah called. Susan hurriedly capped her whipped cream container and stuffed it behind a throw pillow. 

"Yes, Mummy?" she asked, angelically. Sarah came in the room, holding two sheets of parchment in her hands, and smiling slightly.

Walking over to the couch, Sarah removed the throw pillow and uncapped the whipped cream container. "What have I told you about the whipped cream?"

"Sorry," Susan said, looking at her mother. "What's that letter?"

Sarah smiled ironically, and squirted some whipped cream in her mouth. Susan opened her mouth to tell her mother that she was being hypocritical, but Sarah shook a finger in her face. "Do as I say and not as I do."

Susan rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, Miss Harrisford, I do believe that I have some news for you," Sarah went on, flapping the sheets of parchment in her daughter's face.

"What is it?" Susan asked, shifting her weight on the couch. Sarah only swung her feet up upon the new coffee table, and smiled devilishly.

"_Mummy_!" Susan protested.

Sarah cleared her throat, and adopted a very regal tone to her voice.

"Dear Miss Harrisford, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Wizardry and Witchcraft..." Sarah didn't get to finish her sentence.

"_Eeeeeeyaaaaa!_" Susan screamed, leaping off of the couch, and running laps around the new-smelling, pristine living room. "_Wooooohoooo!_"

There was knocking - rather, beating - at the door, and Sarah gave a little ironic smile directed at her daughter, before opening the door.

Like two corks out of a bottle, Gerald and Grace sprinted into the room, and interrupted Susan in mid-lap.

"You got an invite too?!" Grace half-asked, half-squealed. Susan was too ecstatic and out of breath to answer, so she just nodded excitedly.

"We'll have to try and get in the same house!" Gerald exclaimed.

"What's all the fuss about?" Robert Ravenclaw the first asked, as he walked in the door. "Nice place you got here, Sarah," he casually added, taking in the room in front of him.

Little Rob came in after his father. He raised his red eyebrows at the exuberant threesome in front of him. "I take it you got the invitation also," he said mildly.

"I didn't think that the school invitations would come today," Hannah said, stepping in the penthouse room after her son, with Carolyn close behind. "I didn't think you sent them out so soon," she commented, looking at her husband. Robert just smiled.

Hayley was the last to arrive, guiding Helen on her arm, and carrying a dozing Christopher in the other.

"But I suppose that the timing was good, eh, Hannah? Sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing the ending of your conversation. Oh, and many congrats, Robert."

Sarah heard this and pulled a face. "Something's going on that I don't know about," she pouted.

Gabriel nodded. "I noticed that," she added, placing her hands on her hips. The other three adults, Carolyn, Robert, and Helen just smiled innocently.

"Gerald, lemme see that letter," Gabriel ordered, wrestling the parchment from her son's hands.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL 

__

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Robert Ravenclaw

That was all Gabriel needed to read. She nearly squealed with shock, and handed the parchment over to an irate Sarah, who scanned it briefly before losing all color to her features.

"Did Albus Dumbledore retire?" Gabriel finally asked, when she got her breath back. Robert looked at Hannah, and they both shrugged.

"I guess so," Hannah said, "Professor Dumbledore decided to take a year of reprieve, after being headmaster for nearly fifty years. If this works out, Robert might be headmaster for good."

"Why doesn't anybody tell me about these things?" pouted Sarah.

Meanwhile, the children had retreated to Susan's room. It was fairly large, and it still smelt of drywall and new, sky colored, paint.

"Nice," Rob said approvingly, pushing his glasses up with one hand, and smoothing the blue wall down with the other.

"I was expecting... I dunno, green," Grace said, looking about. Susan made a face.

"Honestly, why does everybody think that I have an obsession with green, and snakes?" she asked, sitting on the white-carpeted ground. "Just because I'm related to Slytherin doesn't mean that everything I have has to be green."

This was a good point, and they all knew it, but nobody spoke. Helen slid down the wall, careful not to bump Gerald, who was sitting right next to her.

"I like the blue," she said wonderingly, her blinded eyes taking in the walls. Gerald looked at her.

"How do you know what the blue looks like?" he asked. Helen shrugged.

"Sometimes I can feel blue, or taste green," Helen said, drawing her knees up to her chest. There was a befuddled silence in the room, and the blind girl cracked a smile. "It's hard to explain, all right?"

"I suppose so," Rob said. "Feeling blue is a very interesting sense indeed."

There was more silence in the room, before Susan looked up and spoke. "So, what do you think of going to Hogwarts?"

There was a mumbling chorus of answers, none of which made any sense. Finally, Rob shrugged again. "I don't like to think of all the pressure there's going to be."

"What do you mean?" Grace asked suspiciously. Rob sighed.

"From our parents saving themselves from the Dark Lord, from being related to the founders... I was almost hoping that I'd get a letter from one of the other schools."

Quiet reigned while the other four milled this relevation over. "I had never thought about that," Helen said, thickly.

"Well, at least the sorting shouldn't give us any problems," Susan muttered. "We're probably going to end up in our respective houses, since we have direct bloodline."

There was murmuring of agreement with this observation, and more silence. Susan sighed. Digging in her pocket, she produced a wad of pounds, and counted them over.

"Since my room seems to be a cornucopia of interest to you all-" a slight chuckle ran around the room with Susan's sarcasm, "-I vote that we go to the ice cream shoppe down the street. Mum gave me pocket money just the other day - my treat."

This suggestion was taken in wholeheartedly by the rest of the group, and they all flew out of the room, as fast as legs and sight could take them.

"So, where did Seamus run off to?" Robert asked, sinking into the white couch. Gabriel just rolled her eyes.

"He's the Attack and Defense part of the Ministry of Magic... there was something going on - some dispute - between our Ministry and Albania's Ministry... so he couldn't take off." She shot a look at Sarah. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to drink, would you? I'm parched."

Sarah groaned and hoisted herself out of her seat. "As long as you get it." Then, hypocritical to her words as always, she looked around. "Whaddya want?"

"Whaddya have?" retorted Gabriel, in the same slang.

"Water, juice, milk, tea..." Sarah trailed off.

Hayley cut in. "You wouldn't happen to have anything a wee bit... stronger, would you?" she asked.

Sarah smiled fiendishly. "I have margarita mix."

"That sounds great," four voices chimed in at once.

Grace, Gerald, Susan, Rob and Helen came in the room at this point. "Mummy," Susan announced, "we're going to the ice cream shoppe down the street."

Sarah was putting out liquor glasses on the table, and shot a glance at her daughter. "Just be careful."

"Where are they going?" asked Hannah and Hayley at once, their overprotective-motherliness kicking in. Sarah sighed.

"There's an ice cream place round the bend... don't worry, they should be fine."

"_Should_ be," uttered Hannah under her breath.

"Oh, give it a rest, Hannah," Robert moaned, sinking further into the chair he was sitting on. 

The sounds and smells of London was enough to make anybody's head spin. Helen, who was used to the countryside, kept a tight hold on Susan's forearm as she guided the group down the streets.

"Here we are," she finally announced, pointing to a small cornershop. 'Taylor's Old-Fashioned Ice Cream Shoppe' was emblazed across a sign shaped as a strawberry ice cream cone, and the entire store was painted an eye-popping shade of yellow. Grace winced as she pushed the door open to a bright orange room. The color contrasts were almost too much.

A pretty teenager with brown hair and eyes stood beyond the counter, wearing gloves and twiddling an ice cream scoop nervously in her hands.

"She must be new," Susan whispered, "I haven't seen her here before."

"Welcome to Taylor's Old-Fashioned Ice Cream Shoppe," the girl said in a droning fashion, "how may I be of service?"

"Three frozen bananas for me," Susan went on, turning to the others, "What do you guys want?"

After nearly a quarter of an hour of decisions, Gerald carried a loaded tray over to a booth with swivel seats, and they divided the sweets as they had gotten them, and sat quietly for a while, chewing, slurping, and licking at the ice cream.

None of them noticed the owl swoop by the window.

By this time back at the apartment, all of the adults had polished off two alcoholic drinks apiece, and were working on their thirds. Needless to say, everybody was a little tipsy.

"Then - then - then," Gabriel sputtered, laughing herself nearly sick, "she says: 'Dammit, Chick! That's a pencil!'"

Everybody roared with laughter, Hayley upsetting her drink. "Where did you learn all of those jokes at, Gabriel?"

Gabriel took a long pull of her margarita and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

"The Gryffindor Common Room... Oh man, the stuff I heard in there -" she paused to finish off her drink - "would have choked a goat. I heard that one in my fifth year - but I didn't get it until about three years ago, mind."

"I haven't had this much fun since God knows when," Robert chucked.

"We're all completely wasted," Sarah pointed out. There were a few more moments of silence before everybody dissolved into laughter once again.

"Dear, oh dear," Hannah giggled, placing her empty glass on the table, "what will the children think?"

Robert looked over at Christopher and Carolyn, whom the former was snoring away, and the latter was involved, in some teenage soap opera. "I really doubt they care, dear."

Gabriel smacked her lips. "Ya' wouldn't happen to have summore of summat, would you?" she asked. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"I really don't think that you-" she gave a hiccup, "-need any more of 'summat', Gabriel."

Hayley just giggled. "And when have _you_, Miss Slytherin, ever admitted that you've had too much of a good thing?"

"I have tequila in the cupboard."

There was a unanimous cackle of agreement with this. Hannah feebly tried to protest, but was squashed flat when Robert passed her a small shot.

An owl pecked against the large window. Finding that it was closed, the owl preceded to beat and screech against the window.

Carolyn had tears in her eyes and her fists clenched in hot anticipation. "Come on, Hope! Just _kiss_ him already!" In the heat of her show, she had completely blocked out everything, including the adults' drinking game. But the owl screeching at the window nearly sent her over the edge.

"Mum!" she yelled over the din, "some owl's at the window!" she finished, not taking her eyes from the television screen.

Hayley, who was weaving slightly, nodded to Sarah. "S'your house!"

Muttering crossly, Sarah fished a wand out of her pocket - ebony with the diamond snake's head - and pointed at the window. It clicked open, and the owl fluttered in.

The owl was so huge that its wingspan barely made it in the door. Flapping noisily, he landed on the table.

"Black, ain' he?" asked Robert, squinting at the bird.

He was correct, in the fashion that the bird was completely and utterly black in every way possible. The owl was also a dull black - when the light hit it, no shine came off of it. 

The bird gave a mighty caw, and loosed a piece of black parchment from black claws, and soared out the window again. Hannah squinted after it. It was gone as soon as she blinked.

Sarah rolled the parchment open, and an oddly shaped parcel fell out, wrapped in a white cloth.

"What in the heck?" asked Gabriel, bending over clumsily to pick up the lumpy shape. She promptly dropped it. "Ow!"

Straight across her fleshy palm, Gabriel now sported a long, bloody cut.

Hayley reached across the countertop and gingerly pulled the handkerchief away from the lump. When the object rolled onto the granite, Hayley, Sarah, Gabriel and Robert backed away so quickly that for a moment, Hannah was quite startled.

"What's wrong?" she asked, reaching for the chain that came off of the object.

"Don't touch it!" Gabriel shouted, reaching out a hand, although she was too far away to yank Hannah's hand away.

"I'll be careful," Hannah snapped, lifting the object up by the chain. The other four winced, as if they expected the place to be blown to bits with her picking it up.

A long, golden chain had something of a half-circle at the end of it. The object was also a glistening gold color, shaped into what appeared to be a once perfect circle, though it looked like it had been roughly shorn by something, and the straight edge of it was very sharp.

"See?" Hannah asked, pointing to the sharp edge, "This is why you cut yourself!"

"Let me see it," Robert finally demanded, holding out his palm. Hannah dropped the object into his awaiting hand, and he examined it.

"What is it?" Hannah finally asked after a moment. "It looks like a pendant of some sort."

Everybody winced. "You don't think..." Sarah trailed off. 

Hayley had ambled over to the countertop again, and smoothed out the piece of black parchment. She gasped and motioned the others over.

__

Things are not as they appear,

For I reign anew,

And I seek revenge in what you most fear,

Loss of what means most to you.

__

No interest, have I, in you a'tall,

Not your life, but what you hold above,

Pity one has to die so small,

The little ones that you love.

__

-The Ballad of the Underworld...

The poem was written in a graceful, slanting hand, in milk-white ink, so it stood out like beacons against the black parchment. Hannah stared at it blearily.

"What in the world?" Most of the other adults seemed to have the same response, except for Sarah, who seemed to have gone into nuclear meltdown mode.

Scrambling away from the countertop and the letter, she grasped her wineglass and hurled it against the wall. The shattering noise was enough to tear Carolyn away from her show, and Christopher groggily woke from his nap.

"Sarah?" Hayley asked, "Sarah? Are you al-" she was cut off by Sarah's exploding.

"_NO!_ The bloody bastard!" she screamed, staring wildly at everybody. Hannah gasped and looked over in Christopher's direction.

"There are _children _listening to you, Sarah!" she protested. Sarah didn't seem to hear.

"Don't you_ get_ it?" she cried, looking at the other befuddled adults. "_He's_ come back, and _he_ wants revenge, so _he's _going to kill Susan!"

There was silence, and Hayley fell into a dead faint. Robert stared at the place where she lay, glasses hanging askew from his left ear. Gabriel just stood shock still. Christopher started to cry loudly, seeing his mother lying on the ground like that.

Hannah walked over and scooped the crying child up and attempted to calm him down. "That still doesn't explain why you were cussing like a muggle truck driver!" she snapped, bouncing Christopher.

"I'm sure you want your children to die, then?" asked Sarah feverently.

Hannah looked her over with a start. "What's the _matter_ with you?! I think that you might have had a mite too much to drink, Sarah.... who's this _he_ you keep on talking about?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" burst forth Gabriel. "You-Know-Who! Tom Riddle! Voldemort! The Dark Lord! Whatever you want to call him, it's _him_!" Hannah visibly flinched when she said 'Voldemort'.

"Why in the world would You-Know-Who want to kill our children?!" asked Hannah hotly.

"In case you might have forgotten, dear," Robert said in a very forced tone, "we were supposed to be his apprentices, and we kind of... well... thwarted him, I suppose?"

Hannah was about to retort, but the door opened, and Rob, Helen, Susan, Gerald and Grace walked in. They stopped shock still at the smell of alcohol, the fainted Hayley, the wailing Christopher, the wide-mouthed Carolyn, and the stance that seemed to be taking place in the living room.

"I think that we must have missed something," Rob finally said, eyeing the pile of smashed glass by the wall.

Helen had her nose covered. "Really. What's going on?"

"Nothing really," Robert said, the look in his eyes daring anybody to argue. Nobody took up the challenge. "We were just discussing going out to buy wands and such."

Gerald looked over at Hayley, who was still out cold. "Some discussion," he muttered under his breath.

Grace, for once, decided to display a little tact, and played along with the charade. "So, ah, when are we going?"

"Next week, Dear," Gabriel said, absentmindedly.

There was more awkward silence, before the children scuttled off hurriedly to Susan's room, whispering confusedly to each other.

When they had gone, Carolyn started flipping through the channels, Christopher had gone back to sleep, Robert helped Gabriel haul Hayley onto the couch, and Hannah assisted Sarah in cleaning up the alcohol and glass shards.

There was silence.

A/N: I have had the worst case of writers block in the entire world, so you can blame that for me not getting this up sooner. Not much to say at the moment, just that I hope I can get the next part up sooner than this one. Please review! ^_^

Disclaimer: Everything that is mentioned in the Harry Potter books belongs to J.K., and everything else belongs to lil' ol' me. 


	4. Crushes and Royal Flushes

Gerald woke that day by his sister leaping off of the top bunk of their bunk bed and landing on the floor about as noiselessly as an elephant.

"Getup, Sleepyhead," Grace ordered her brother. "We're going out for school things today."

"Don' wanna," Gerald replied, in a voice choked with sleep. He rolled over and tried to squelch himself invisible by the wall. It didn't work.

About ten minutes later, Gerald grumpily rolled out of bed, striking his head on the top of the bunk above him. It wasn't so much the fact that they couldn't have their own bedrooms, it was more like they just liked to share rooms, but Grace got on her brother's nerves a lot.

"Why do we have to go out so early?" Gerald moaned, digging in the pile of robes by the corner that had been thrown there carelessly in earlier haste.

Grace was already dressed and groomed with the accuracy of a morning person. "Because, Blockhead, we don't want to be caught in the late crowd."

Gerald just moaned again and tried to flatten down his thick blonde hair with his hand. Grace handed him a comb.

"I'm going to go downstairs for breakfast," Grace announced.

"Don't eat the pickles," snapped her brother, using the term that otherwise meant that he didn't really care.

Grace bounded down the stairs.

# # #

Rob and Carolyn sat primly at the table, munching their cornflakes. Getting up at 8:00 in the morning was no hardship for them, because they were naturally morning people anyway. Breakfast was a quiet affair, with Robert the first reading the Daily Prophet, Hannah writing an owl to a friend and Carolyn was quiet in the morning anyway, and Rob enjoyed the silence.

"Look at the time," Robert remarked with a bit of aloofness in his voice. Folding his paper, he stood up and stretched. "We're supposed to meet the others in a half-hour, aren't we?"

Hannah finished her letter and sent their barn owl, Skipper, out the window with it. "Yes. Carolyn, would you please do the dishes?"

Carolyn gave a grunt of contempt, and waited until her parents had left the room. "Done?" she snapped at Rob, who had just swallowed his last spoonful of now-soggy cornflakes.

Rob nodded, and Carolyn looked around the room suspiciously before taking out her wand, well concealed within her robes. Rob raised his eyebrows but said nothing. With a flick of her wand, the breakfast dishes were washed, dried and put away.

"You make the oddest Hufflepuff," Rob said, shaking his head. "I was always under the impression that they were honest and loyal."

Carolyn just smiled as she put her wand away. "If you learn one thing in your life, Robert William the second, make it this: Stereotypes are often very, very wrong."

With that, Carolyn left the room, leaving a slightly befuddled Rob in her wake.

# # #

Helen sat in front of the mirror, though it was of no use to her, and gently started to pull back her brown hair into a plait.

The house was silent, as Helen was an early morning person, and her mother was not. Helen rather enjoyed the silence - it put impressions of blue and green in her mind, and she liked the serenity.

Standing away from the mirror, she carefully felt her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. With near-perfect ease she filled the teapot with tea and turned the burner on. Smiling as she heard the flames feed off the gas, she started to walk away, until her sensitive nose picked something up.

It smelt like something was burning.

Frowning, she stood there, until she felt her right arm becoming unnaturally hot. Quickly, she brushed her hand over her sleeve, and felt searing pain up her arm, and over her hand.

_Oh my God_, Helen thought with frantic disdain, _I'm burning_.

Panic rose thick in her throat, and that with the pain made her lose sense of direction. Running around like a fool, she frantically felt around for the sink, but couldn't find it.

"_Yearchhhh_!" she screamed.

Hayley Hufflepuff bolted up in bed, groggy and confused. Something was wrong.... she wrinkled her nose. It smelt like burning gas - 

"_Helen_!" she cried, not bothering with a bathrobe and running down the stairs, leaping over the last six.

There, in the middle of the kitchen, Helen was sprinting around and waving her arm, which had a bright orange fireball off the end of it.

Not wasting breath on words, Hayley leapt over to the sink and turned on the water full blast. Helen heard the water and stopped running, and Hayley guided her daughter forcefully to the sink and submerged her arm.

The water was cool relief to Helen's flaming limb, and she sighed happily. Hayley pulled up her daughter's sleeve and looked at the flesh. It was slightly red, but didn't seem to be badly burnt.

"You know," Hayley said, taking Helen's arm from the water and gently toweling it dry, "that's going to be mighty sore for the next couple of weeks."

Helen, beet red with embarrassment, didn't even bother answering. Hayley walked over to the muggle refrigerator and pulled out a small jar filled with sunburn ointment - compliments of her friend Rosemary's potion farm. She gave it to Helen to smear over her burn, while Hayley picked up her wand and waited for her to finish.

"All I wanted was some tea," Helen mumbled, ashamed of herself.

Hayley felt a pang for her daughter, who so wanted independence from her blindness, but was having a hard time getting what she wanted. "I know, Dear," she crooned, pointing her wand at the burnt arm, and instantly, it was snugly wrapped with white bandages, feeling thankful that she had taken that class in wizarding first aid. Noting that her daughter still looked crestfallen, she nodded towards the stove, even though nods were of no use to Helen.

"The water looks ready," Hayley said gently. "Why don't you make us the tea?"

Helen smiled and nodded her head. "Okay, Mum."

# # #

"Susan! Susan Harrisford!" the shrill voice called out. Susan moaned and opened her eyes to slits. "We're late! Get out of bed!"

Rolling out of the bed, she opened her eyes to see a robe being thrown in her face. "Wha?" she asked sleepily.

"We're supposed to meet the others in -" she looked at her watch "- five minutes! Hurry!"

Susan was up faster than a rocket, and tugging her robe forcefully over her head, she ran to the bathroom in the penthouse to brush her teeth.

Her mother was waiting for her when she came out, and handed her a plain bagel. "Just eat it," Sarah snapped to her daughter when Susan opened her mouth to complain. "We don't have time for condiments."

Susan crammed the dry bagel down her throat while her mother did her hair up in a ponytail. Susan giggled. Her mother was the only person over the age of twenty that she knew that still wore ponytails.

"Come on, Sue," her mother said while Susan gulped down water to wash down the bagel (which had been rather stale) and wiped her hands on her napkin.

"Don't call me Sue," Susan shuddered as she stood up. "Okay, I assume it would be Floo Powder?"

"That's right," Sarah said, taking a small jar off the mantelpiece and offering it to Susan. "But you know what assuming does." Susan took a pinch, and smiled.

"It makes an ass out of you and me?" she asked, devilishly. Sarah grinned back at her daughter.

"Exactly. Hurry, now."

"Gringotts, Diagon Alley," Susan stated, matter-of-factly. The flames roared and turned bright green in a spectrum of color. Susan stepped in the fire, and was sucked into its depths.

# # #

Grace looked at her watch. They were all waiting for Susan and Sarah, and her patience was wearing thin.

"Sorry we're so late," a breathless voice said from behind the group. Everyone whirled around to see a panting Sarah, and Susan, keeling over with a smudge of charcoal on her nose.

Sarah glared at the group. "I thought that we were going to meet at Gringotts?" she asked reproachfully.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, and everyone was standing before the large bookstore of Flourish'n'Blotts.

"You didn't bring any money?" Robert asked her, looking surprised.

Gabriel looked at him. "I didn't bring anything either."

"Nor I," Hayley said, shaking her head.

"The morning was kind of rushed," Susan said, smiling at her mother. Sarah didn't appear too pleased, but she put a hand on Susan's shoulders and winked slightly.

"I don't want to walk," Gerald pouted. Seamus cuffed his son with the back of his hand.

"Shaddup. It's good for you."

"Cauliflower is good for me too," Gerald mumbled. Grace giggled, knowing how much her brother hated the white vegetable.

"Well, let's start walking then," Hayley interjected, ushering the group ahead of her, and keeping a careful eye on Helen.

The children, sans Carolyn (who had no particular interest in coming) and Christopher (who had been left at home in the care of a muggle babysitter), were looking about them excitedly. Of course, they had been to Diagon Alley before, but they looked through it with new eyes now that they were starting at Hogwarts.

"I wish that we were allowed to join the Quidditch teams," said a sulky Gerald as they passed by the broom shop.

Rob pushed his spectacles up his nose wisely. "Do you even know how to fly?"

Gerald turned a vivid shade of red. "Of course!"

"But Gerald," Grace said innocently, "the last time you flew you fell off and-"

"Shut up, Grace," Gerald commanded, blushing deeply.

"I hope that we can get pets," commented Helen, changing the tune of the conversation. "I've always wanted a cat, but Chris is allergic to them."

"I want an owl," Rob said. "They're so useful, what with carrying post and all."

Susan sighed wistfully. "I've always liked dragons..." she trailed off. There was a sudden silence while everybody looked at Susan in horror. Susan laughed. "I don't think that Hogwarts would like me having a dragon very much."

"You'd fit right in with Hagrid," Hannah remarked off-handedly, overhearing the children's conversation.

"The gamekeeper?" Rob asked curiously.

"He's always had a certain... fetish for dragons," Hayley explained.

"Is he even still there?" Sarah asked Robert, over her shoulder.

Robert nodded affirmatively. "Where else would he be? He's nearing the ripe old age of seventy, though, and still going strong."

"It'll be nice to see the old duffer again," Gabriel remarked, tussling Gerald's hair. "You'll like Hagrid."

They had reached the bottom step of the nearly seven hundred steps leading up to the magnificent building that was Gringotts. Sarah and Susan screwed their faces into ones of exasperation.

"We just climbed _down_ these ten minutes ago," Susan scowled, sounding all the world like her dam.

"In this case," Helen said, smiling slightly, "what goes down, must go up." Everybody snorted their amusement at the pun, with the obvious exception of Susan and Sarah.

Ten minutes later, an exhausted troop made their way to the top of the marble staircase, panting and complaining. Seamus had knocked Gerald over the head at least three times, until Gabriel said that if he didn't stop, she would start knocking _him_ over the head.

"Everybody had better get their money as of now," Sarah snarled through her gasps of air, "because I am not doing that again."

"Shut up, Slytherin, and get in," Gabriel ordered her friend, holding open the door for her as she walked in.

The inside of Gringotts was, quite predictably, a very large place. It was furnished with marble, while people waited in large poufs in shades of brown for the carts that would take them to their vaults. Others, looking rather ill, lurched off of mine carts for others to get on. Goblins counted Gallions, Sickles and Knuts out to people who wanted small transactions, while pixies flitted about the ceiling, lighting the many candles with their fairy wands, as it was early yet.

While the adults walked up to the counter to arrange for goblins to take them to their safes, the five children hovered about a moth-eaten pouf, whispering.

"Have you guys noticed anything weird about your parents lately?" Gerald asked softly.

"Or parent," Rob said for tactfulness, nodding to Helen and Susan.

"Not really," Susan said, thinking about her mother.

"Why do you ask?" Helen said, frowning.

Grace shook her head. "It must just be us, then. Mum's been acting pretty jumpy ever since we visited your house, Sue."

Susan winced. "Don't call me Sue."

Ignoring this interjection, Rob frowned thoughtfully. "Well, my mum _has_ been acting rather overprotective as of late -" he grimaced "- more overprotective than usual, mind."

"They did seem pretty freaked out after we left..." Helen trailed off. "Why?" she demanded for a second time, eyes with the cloudy pupils glinting curiously.

Nobody had an answer to this, and it didn't really matter anywho, because the parents came back, and there were two goblins waiting by two minecarts. Everybody piled in to the carts, and they started off.

At first the carts slowly creaked down the rails, until they hit a junction. There was a bright white flash, and the tracks slowly curved over to the left, where everybody's vaults were located. Then, like a cork out of a bottle, they zipped off.

"I heard that there were supposed to be dragons protecting some of the vaults!" Susan yelled. Immediately after, she had to spit hair out of her mouth, as it was flying crazily in all directions.

"And I hope we don't see any!" Rob replied, holding onto his glasses with one hand and the side of the cart with the other.

"Wuss!" Grace said, holding her blonde hair in her right hand to keep it from getting in her face.

Helen didn't feel the need to participate in this conversation; all that concerned her was the fact that she was going very fast, and she couldn't see, and didn't know where. Gerald had his eyes shut, as he hated rollercoasters, and the cart ride could have easily been one at a muggle theme park.

Five fast minutes later, the carts came to a grinding halt on what looked like a concrete platform with torches lining the stony walls. Grace, Gerald, Gabriel and Seamus followed the goblin in front of them - named, meticulously, Bobgoblin - to the door of a safe. The safe door was about as tall and wide as an average size door, and there was a lock on the side, that looked meant for a key. But, to the twins' great surprise, instead of fitting the key into the lock, the goblin took the key, and hung it on the nail beside the door. The key dissolved into the wall, and the door fell into a slot on the ground.

Bobgoblin smiled at the astonished looks on Gerald and Grace's faces. "That's in case anybody tried to pick the lock - basilisk venom would spray out of the keyhole."

Seamus leaned down to his children. "That, kids, is why you never mess with goblins."

Gerald and Grace nodded mutely while they entered the safe.

It was a room about the size of an average sized bathroom, and there were stockpiles of Gallions, Sickles and Knuts against the walls, in bags, and strewn about the floor. Since both of their parents worked, the Finnigans were well off anyway, but since Gabriel was the only known heir to Gryffindor, sans Grace and Gerald, she had inherited quite a tidy sum herself in royalties and such. After gathering enough money to buy school supplies, Seamus took the key (which had passed through the wall, and was hanging off of an inconspicuous hook) and they exited. As soon as Bobgoblin - the last to leave the vault - left, the wall to the safe zoomed up, faster than lightning, and slammed shut. Everybody stared at it, before quietly cramming back into the carts again.

A fast, sickening, bumpy ride later, they were standing on the bottom stair of Gringotts, by the bottom exit.

"Where to now?" asked Hayley, a careful arm on Helen's shoulder, despite the girl's protests.

"We can go back to the bookstore," suggested Grace.

Robert shook his head. "It's almost at the end of the Alley, let's start at the Apothecary first, shall we?"

They did so, and I would only bore you going into the details. Let us say that they went through getting potion ingredients, robe fittings, gloves, winter cloaks (with silver fittings), and hat buying without much of a hitch. That was, unless you counted the time that Gerald dropped a cauldron on his sister's foot, and got a black eye as a result. Then they went into the bookstore.

"It's loud here, for a bookstore," Helen commented, frowning. The others, even though they didn't have as sharp of hearing, agreed. There were yells, curses, sounds of flesh hitting flesh, and all sorts of beastly sounds coming from the next room. Feeling curious, Sarah walked through the threshold.

_Bonk._

A book flew through the air and hit Sarah square between the eyes. The rest of the party gasped, and Sarah went cross-eyed with surprise before her black eyebrows snapped together, and irritated crease marks drew their way down her face. Picking up the book, she strode into the next room, determination in her step.

"Oh, _no_," Hayley moaned as they followed their hot-tempered friend into the next room.

There was a ring of people around the perimeter of it, apparently gawking at something. The adults were too polite to make their way to the front, but their children had no problem elbowing their way to the front of the throng.

It was easy to see what was making the people gawp so. Two men were having their own version of the muggle World Wide Wrestling Federation in the midst of rows of books. With the occasional shouts of the crowd, two men, obviously the sons of the feuding adults, were pleading with them to stop.

"Father, don't waste your energy on scum like him!" begged the one man, attempting to wrench one - the one that must had been his father - off of the other man.

"Dad! Let _me_ fight him!"

Rob stared. Two older men - they appeared elderly, almost - were tangled up twister-style on the floor. They both had their jaws set in grim determination, and were obviously trying to beat the other one to a pulp. One of them - he had bright red hair with a few gray streaks - had a handful of the other man's whitish hair at the top of his scalp - where it hurts the most - while the man with white hair was kicking his foe in the shins.

"I've been waiting to do this for a _long_ time, Lucius!" grunted one of the men.

"What? Lose a fight?" the other man growled.

Enter Sarah.

"_Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, what in the Sam Hill is going ON here?!_" she thundered.

There wasn't a sound in the room. You could have heard a pin drop.

"_Don't you think you two are a little OLD for this?!_" she went on, wrenching the two adults apart.

"You'll have to ask him that, Slytherin," Lucius Malfoy said, looking at Arthur Weasley from a pair of cold gray eyes. He apparently hadn't forgotten Sarah from previous years.

Sarah shook her head in disdain. "Luke, Luke, Luke," she muttered under her breath. Lucius stiffened at being addressed like that.

"It's the zump rope girl!" a young voice gurgled. Sarah turned around to see a little black-haired girl pointing at her. Sarah remembered the jump roping she had done at the reunion, and decided that this must have been one of the girls twirling the magical rope.

By now, most of the spectators had dispersed, and Gabriel came storming up to Sarah.

"_Must_ you make an ass of yourself at every available opportunity, Sarah?" she hissed. Sarah gave something of a sneer.

"No," she replied snidely, "only when it's sunny."

The Weasleys had left, leaving our favorite group, and the Malfoys. Lucius didn't appear too pleased, but Draco was wearing a bland expression, like he was actually quite amused, but didn't want to show it. He had his hand on the shoulder of another boy, appearing about the age of Susan, Gerald, Grace, Helen and Rob. Hayley looked at him quizzically.

"I didn't see you at the reunion," she commented, looking up at Draco. She really wasn't too fond of the Malfoy family, but decided to make herself tolerable, lest Sarah get annoyed again.

Draco gave something of a sliver of a smile. "This is my son, Alexandre."

Introductions between everybody were made, and while the grownups bought the books they needed, the children stared at each other mutely for a bit, before Helen cleared her throat.

"So, erm, Alexandre-"

"Please," Alexandre said suavely, "call me Alex."

That tone of voice made Helen slightly uncomfortable. "Right then."

They went on with idle chitchat, before all of the adults came back. The Malfoys had come back, (and to the grudging politeness of everybody except for Sarah and Draco) they all decided to go to the wand shop together.

They walked out of the bookstore, Draco and Sarah in the lead, and they were talking as fast as their lips would form the words. 

"You know," Hannah whispered to her husband, "Sarah's not married."

Sarah and Draco erupted into gales of laughter.

"Oh, really?" Draco asked.

"You wouldn't believe..." Sarah went on.

"What do you -" he started, before getting what his wife was trying to convey. His lips silently formed into the letter 'O', before melting away. "Is Malfoy?"

Hannah shrugged.

# # #

Helen walked slowly at the back of the group, following the noise of everybody else. She had her brows furrowed in thought.

Ever since they had met up with the Malfoys, she had felt odd. Being blind had never really bothered her all that much - with the exception of times like that morning. It was like forever walking in gray mist - not black, like most people thought. But when she had gotten into the presence of the Malfoys, the fog had turned a fuzzy shade of greenish-purple, almost, like it had been tainted. She didn't like the feeling - it made her very uneasy, like something bad was going to happen.

They had made their way to the wand shop, and Draco gallantly held the door open for Sarah, who swept in, and then he walked in afterwards, leaving the door to fall in Robert's face. Muttering dark things, Robert repositioned his glasses, and held open the door for everybody.

When they had all gotten in, Lucius abruptly stopped, and Helen ran into the back of him, not being able to see, and preoccupied in the first place.

"Watch where you're going!" Lucius snapped, being in a foul temper.

There was no need to order, though, for as soon as Helen bumped up against him, she had backed up swiftly, as if she had ran into fire, and she was clutching her eyes.

As soon as she had touched his flesh, a bright, shining, blinding flash of green light intercepted her senses. Helen had never exactly _seen_ green before, but she knew that that _had_ to be the color. The fog of her blindness dispelled completely, and all that was left was the foul green light.

"Helen?" asked Rob, "Are you okay? You look odd."

Helen withdrew her hands from her eyes and shook her head. "I had something in my eye," she lied, deciding not to mention the light.

Cheers erupted in the back of the wand store, along with a brilliant flash of blue light. "I think we have a wand here," said a female voice, sounding pleased. "Come up to the front, and we'll see about buying it for you."

A family came up from behind the rows of wands, following a woman in a light purple robe.

"...thank you so much," a woman from the family gushed, "you see, we've never had a witch in the family before and... and..."

"Oh, it's my pleasure," the woman in purple assured, wrapping a light-colored wand in tissue paper. "What school are you going to?" she asked, directing this to a small girl, who was obviously the recipient of the wand.

"I got ze invitation to ze Beauxbatons yezterday," the girl said softly, with a thick French accent.

The woman nodded curtly. "Yes... I've heard that that was a lovely school to learn at... warm climate too... here you go. That'll be ten Gallions."

Money was exchanged, and the family left, all smiling happily. Lucius rolled his eyes in the back of his head and sat down with a hard 'thud' in the only chair.

"Can I help you?" the lilac-robed witch asked.

Gabriel frowned. "You know, I could have sworn I've seen you before..."

The witch wrinkled her brows. "Now that you say it, you do look familiar."

There was silent puzzlement for about three seconds, until Hayley, never one to forget a face, burst into a smile.

"Samantha?" she asked. "Samantha Chenelle?"

The woman's eyes bulged in her head. "My God, you're Hayley, aren't you?"

Every one of the adults (sans Draco and Lucius) dissolved into laughter and started talking excitedly.

"Who's Samantha Chenelle?" Alex asked, leaning over Rob.

"I think that she's the fifth one that ran away from castle Sapius," Rob whispered back, not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him.

"Isn't this Ollivander's shop?" asked Seamus, looking around.

"Yes, but he's agreed to take me on as an apprentice, since there aren't that many interested in the wand making business anymore."

"Do you have any children?" asked Hannah, looking around Samantha, as if there might be a child hiding behind her.

"No, I'm single. But anyhow, who are these people?" Samantha inquired, looking at the children.

Once again, everybody was introduced, and Samantha nodded. "I see. But anyway, Mr. Malfoy, why don't you go first?"

Alex stepped forward, and Samantha snapped her fingers. The old tape measure went into its routine, measuring all of the joints of his body.

"Wand hand?" Samantha asked in a business-like voice.

"Right," Alex answered promptly.

Samantha nodded and snapped her fingers again. The tape measure fell away, and she grabbed a box off the wall.

"Try this one. Maple, eight inches, a single unicorn hair, and dragon heartstring."

That wand didn't work, and the exchange of wands went on for five minutes or so until one produced a magnificent display of periwinkle sparks by Alex's touch, (Mahogany, ten inches, dragon scale and crystallized basilisk venom - good for transfigurations), and the transaction of money was completed. Nearly everybody was secretly hoping that the Malfoy family would leave - including Lucius - but the way that Sarah and Draco were constantly yapping away, it wasn't likely.

"Alright, Mr. Ravenclaw, you next." Rob stepped up, and the measuring tape took over. "Wand hand?"

"Right," Rob answered.

"Okay, how about..." Samantha scanned the shelves and pulled out a box, "...this one. Elm, eleven inches, bark from the Bingbong tree, and unicorn tooth. Good for Charms."

That one didn't work, so Samantha tried another. The next one (Ebony, seven inches, sap from an impossible tree, and dust from a shooting star) didn't work either, and neither did the one that was made out of willow wood, thirteen inches long, with feathers from a mute parrot, and bats' wing.

And so it went. The pile of used wands piled higher and higher on the ground, until it was nearly twice as tall as Rob himself. Everybody had moved to the other side of the store, afraid of the wand mound toppling over on them.

"Try this one," Samantha said, seeming undaunted by it all.

"Ante up," Gabriel said, sounding bored. All of the adults - including Lucius - had discovered a muggle pack of cards left there by somebody, and they had all decided to play poker. Sarah was having a heck of a time trying to teach Lucius and Draco how to play. 

"I can't believe that I'm playing a muggle game," Lucius snorted. Gabriel glared at him.

"You don't have to, you know," she snapped, getting tired of his arrogance. "You _could_ be over there on the chair still, picking your nose."

Lucius sent her a death glare, and showed Sarah his cards. "Is this any good?" he barked. Sarah went slightly pale.

"Er, yes. I fold," she said quickly.

"Wha'd he get?" asked Draco. "What do I turn in?" he said in the same breath.

"I'd go with this one-" she pulled out a card "-and this one. You want to try and get a Full House."

Rob was still trying wands out frantically, trying to get one that worked.

"Read it and weep, guys," Gabriel said, "Four of a Kind, Aces," she finished smugly.

"Go on, Luke," Sarah prompted.

Lucius laid down his cards, and everybody went a sickly shade of green.

"A Royal Flush?!" asked Seamus, throwing down his cards. "Of Spades? You have got to be _kidding_ me!"

Gabriel shot an incensed look at Lucius. "Beginners luck."

"Okay," Samantha said, "try _this_ one. Oak. Twelve inches. Claw of a badger, fang of a snake, nail of a lion, talon of a bird. A well rounded wand."

Rob gripped the wand, and didn't even have time to wave it. Colors of the rainbow exploded from it erratically, swirling around.

"I think we have a winner," Samantha said, smiling at Rob. "I'll wrap it up once we have everybody done. Helen, dear, you're next."

Still trying to fight off the green light that was meddling in the gray fog, Helen stood up and went to Samantha.

The tape measure took over, and Samantha looked at Helen. "Wand hand?"

"Left."

"Oooh, a lefty. Okay, try this one." She reached inside of the pile of wands and came out with a rather long one. "Fifteen inches, yew. Dry water, and solid vapor. Bendy."

An hour later, Helen was still trying out wands, and the game had switched from poker to Go Fish.

"Okay, Seamus," Sarah said, "Do you have any... kings?"

Seamus smiled and shook his head. "Go Fish."

"This is stupid," Lucius muttered.

Everybody had become deaf to Lucius's complaining a long while ago and just ignored him. Sarah put on a pouty face and reached into the 'pond' of cards.

"What if I don't like fishing?" she whined.

"I'll go with you," Draco offered.

Sarah's eyebrows shot up, as did everybody else's. Lucius leaned over to look at his son curiously. Draco blushed.

"Okay, Son," Lucius said. He seemed to have renewed his vigor for Go Fish, all of a sudden. "You wouldn't happen to have any _queens_, would you?"

This only made Draco blush deeper. "None at the moment, Father. Go Fish."

Lucius looked very amused, and reached over to draw a card.

The pile of wands had been sorted through a second time for Helen. Samantha bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Rob," she said to the boy, who was polishing his wand, "may I see your wand?"

Rob grumbled about getting fingerprints over his wand, but he passed it over.

"Here Helen, try this one," Samantha said, handing her Rob's wand. Helen shook her head.

"But that's _Rob's_ wand."

"Just... try it. I want to see something."

Helen looked dubious, but took the wand.

To everyone's amazement, color zoomed out of the wand, as it had for Rob. Pinks, blues, reds, greens, purples, yellows, any color imaginable spewed out of the wandtip.

Samantha had everybody else try out the wand. For Gerald, Grace and Susan it worked also.

"Now what?" whimpered Grace. "There's only one wand, but five of us!"

Samantha shook her head. "This has happened before," she mused.

"It _has_?" asked Alex, clutching the box that held his wand.

Samantha nodded. "It's called vielun."

"Vielun?" asked Susan. "What the heck is a vielun?"

"It means _many to one_. Then there's a diverseul, which means that a wizard can use any wand as well as their own, and a semvara is a wizard that doesn't need a wand.... anyway."

"Well?" asked Rob. "What can we do?"

Samantha sighed and took the wand up. "I can try and make you duplicates of the wand. Mind though, no two wands are ever alike." She looked over at the huddle of adults, where Gabriel was doing a victory dance, because she had won Go Fish. "I'll go and explain this to the marauders of Go Fish. You wait here."

After she had left, Helen shook her head. "Vielun. Well, this ought to be fun," she said bitterly. "I'd rather be a diverseul. It seems easier."

"Are you _kidding_?" asked Gerald, "I want to be a semvara! No need for wands at all! Could you imagine?"

The six children looked down at the ground and shook their heads. No, they couldn't.

About ten minutes later, everybody was heading out of the wand shop. "Come and see us sometime!" Hayley called over her shoulder to Samantha, who was waving at them. "You know where to find us!"

Draco looked at his watch. "Well, we had better get going. Bye, everybody." Alex nodded respectfully, and Lucius snorted. In the blink of an eye, they were gone.

"Joint apperation," Robert said, "they just came up with it a few months ago. We should learn how to do it."

Gabriel patted Sarah on the back. "Pretty soon, you won't have to play Go Fish anymore," she said innocently.

"What do you mean?" asked Sarah. Seamus roared with laughter.

"It looks like you've already landed a suckerfish!"

Bright red exploded on Sarah's face like fireworks. "It's not like that!" she snapped. "Come on!" With that, she stuck out her wand to flag the Knight Bus. 

The bus 'bang'-ed into sight, and they all loaded onto the bus.

"One week until Hogwarts," Gerald whispered, looking out the window at the passing scenery. They appeared to be somewhere in the Alps, though he couldn't tell.

"Mmm," was the chorus of voices that replied.

A/N: That one was rather long compared to the other parts! I hope you liked, and please don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: Any character that is in the Harry Potter books belongs to the great J.K., and 'semvara' belongs to Virgo (KatyD2008@aol.com, if you feel the sudden need to email her ^_^) everything else belongs to unworthy ol' me. 


	5. The Scarlet Letters

A/N: Since there seems to be confusion over who is who in this story ::sheepishly:: I guess I owe you people an explanation on whom is who.

Hannah is Robert's wife, and their children are Carolyn and Rob.

Sarah is divorced, and she has one child, Susan.

Seamus is Gabriel's husband, and their children are Gerald and Grace.

Hayley is... unmarried, and her child is Helen.

Samantha/Chenelle was managing the wand shop. 

Hopefully, this will help.

# # #

The owl tapped against the window. Rob rolled over, groaning. It couldn't be any earlier than five in the morning, and that was early, even for him. But the owl refused to go away, it just kept on tapping and tapping and tapping until finally Rob was obliged to go and open the door, lest it break in the windowpane.

A piece of parchment fell in through the window, though the owl flew immediately away. Shading his eyes, he tried to spot the bird, but it was no longer there.

_How strange_, Rob thought as he looked at the parchment. He wondered who it could be, since he knew for a blatant fact that none of his friends were awake at this hour. He opened the parchment, and put on his glasses.

__

Tomorrow is September the first, Mr. Ravenclaw.

One sentence. That was all. It was on snowy-white parchment, and the words looked horribly like somebody had pricked their finger and wrote it in blood. Hands shaking, he crumpled the paper up and looked around, trembling, as if he were expecting somebody to pop out of the chest of drawers and murder him.

"What do I do?" he asked himself, feeling ashamed that he was so afraid of a letter. Making a quick decision, he went down to where the family owl had been tethered - Skipper. It was going to sleep, and was rather upset to be interrupted at this hour. But Rob scribbled out three letters, to some of the only friends he knew that were wizards, and sent Skipper off.

# # #

_Tap. Tap. Tap._ Went the owl at Helen's window. It didn't wake her up, but it was rather a pain in the behind.

Ever since she had seen green when she had bumped into Mr. Malfoy (the eldest), she had been more attentive to her fog when she walked about. Most of the time, on the edges of her 'vision' she could detect flickers of yellow (she didn't know how she knew that this color was yellow, but she supposed it was) about her. It was rather puzzling.

"Oh, alright, I'm coming," Helen moaned, opening the window. The owl flew in and dropped a piece of parchment in her hands. Helen could hear the flapping of wings, and the owl was gone.

She ran her fingers over both sides of the paper, only to find them smooth. "Bother whomever sent this!" she said crossly, "it isn't in Braille."

Muttering a small incantation that she had heard from her mother, she heard a soft pop, and then small bumps rose out of the paper, like little grains. From here she ran her fingers over the paper.

__

Helen - 

I apologize I didn't make this in Braille - I don't know it. But, is there any way you could possibly get over to Diagon Alley? Now?

-Rob

Helen frowned. Diagon Alley? _Now_? But she was almost positive that it wasn't six in the morning yet! Before she could finish pondering this, another owl swooped in the room.

As soon as the parchment hit her fingers, flashes of red and green hit her eyes so vividly that she dropped the paper and grasped at her eyes, which were watering like mad. Once she got herself under control, she grabbed the parchment and ran her fingers over it.

__

Tomorrow is September the first, Miss _Carloton._

Helen reeled. How did this person know her rightful last name? Was _this _what Rob wanted? Sunspots from the flashes of evil color danced across her eyes. Suddenly, she felt very scared and alone.

Walking down the stairs, she turned her head around dubiously. She knew that the fire was out in the fireplace, and there was no way that she was going to start a new one by herself. Frowning, she walked around until she felt herself in the kitchen. _The stove._

Grabbing the floo powder from the other room, she turned the knobs on the stove as high up as they could go, until she could feel quite an inferno building up. Feeling dubious, she tossed three big handfuls of the blue powder over the flames. They hissed and crackled, and Helen dragged over a chair.

"Diagon Alley!" she whispered to the flames that she couldn't see. Gathering all her resolve, she took a mighty leap off the chair and into the gas flames. She never hit the bottom, as she was whisked off.

# # #

It was raining, and very wet, Susan noticed. She also prayed that the invisibility cream that she had found in her mother's memory box still worked. After she had gotten that letter from Rob, and that spooky letter from God knew where, she had made haste for the closet in the back of the penthouse.

It held all of her mother's old things, and she rummaged around until she found the two things she sought - the smear of nearly dried invisibility cream and the very old broomstick that sat in the back of the closet, nearly in cobwebs. She had then went into her new school things and gotten her waterproof winter cloak. Tucking both the letters into her pocket, she launched herself from the window and hurtled out into the world.

# # #

"Where _is_ everybody?" asked Gerald. He and his sister, having lived closest to the Alley, were there first, and were squashing themselves flat against the sides of Zonko's, trying to stay dry. It wasn't working. The rain was driving at an angle, and seemed to be getting colder every minute.

"_Umph_!" a voice said to the left of them. Whirling around, Gerald and Grace saw a very bedraggled Helen fall on the cobbles of the street. She looked like she had walked though a raging fire to get here, as her bedclothes were charred, and her left hand seemed to be the worse for wear.

"It has not been a good week for me and fire," she said pointedly. "Hello Gerald. Hello Grace."

"How did you know it was us?" asked Grace suspiciously.

Helen shrugged. "Blind man's intuition. Where's everybody else?"

"Just got here," Rob said, walking towards them, rain falling on him in torrents, but he didn't seem to mind. In his left hand he held a book. "Emergency portkey," he said grimly. "Thought it the best way to get here. Where's Susan?"

"Is that her?" asked Gerald uncertainly, pointing to the sky. A figure was swooping about in the air, before it stopped on the cobblestones in front of them.

"Rob," it said, removing a hat, "you had better have a good reason for calling me out at five in the morning in a pouring rainstorm."

"Hail, hail the gang's all here," Helen said, sighing. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the letter I got this morning, would it?"

"Everything," Rob said shortly. "I was sure that you'd all get the same letter. What do you make of it?"

"Well, obviously, somebody wants us to know that it's September first tomorrow," Susan snapped. "Maybe it's custom to send first years bloody letters."

"No," Helen said suddenly, with quite a bit of force. "This letter is evil."

"How do you know?" asked Grace lazily.

Helen took a deep, shuddering breath, as if to tell them something, but she fell quiet instead.

"Must be more of this 'Blind man's intuition'," Gerald muttered sleepily.

"Enough!" Rob said forcefully, shaking water droplets off of his glasses. "Don't you want to know who_ sent_ it?"

"Of course we do," Helen said sensibly, "but how do we plan on doing that? I know two spells total: floo powder, and one to make regular letters Braille. That's not going to help us any."

"Okay, okay," Susan said, rubbing her temples. "It's wet out here, and that's not helping our moods much. We need to go somewhere dry and talk about this."

"Why didn't we all just meet at someone's house?" Gerald inquired.

Now that they thought about it, the foursome thought this the most sensible thing to do, but since they had overlooked that earlier, it was rather useless to them now.

"Did anyone leave our parents a note?" asked Grace suddenly.

There was silence for a moment, and then everybody moaned their despair.

"We are _so _dead!" Gerald moaned.

Helen tapped her chin and shook her head. "And I left the burners on..." she mused sadly, thinking of the stove at home.

Rob looked around the Alley, and Ollivander's wand shop caught his eye. "Maybe not as dead as we think," he said. "C'mon."

They all sprinted to the wand shop, which held a large sign on it that said 'Closed' in big, bright letters. Rob looked up at the top window and nodded at a lit candle. "Just as I thought," he said aloud. "Samantha is an early riser." Picking up a cobble from the road, he threw it at the window. He took hold of another, and threw that one at the window too.

An irate head peeked down at them. When she saw the five children there, she hurried down to the shop and unlocked the doors.

"What are you doing here so early?" she asked, though not unkindly. "I was going to deliver your wands today, and... where are your parents?"

"Samantha," Susan said crossly, cutting her off, "we could explain if you'd _let _us."

Most adults might think this an impudent answer, and yell at Susan for it. Samantha just smiled, and murmured something that sounded like 'Just like her mother', and let the wet fivesome in.

In the very back of the wand store there was a concealed door, and beyond the door there was a set of stairs. Samantha led them up the stairs, and they emerged in a very snug kitchen, which was incredibly welcome at the moment.

"I'll put the kettle on," Samantha said briskly, "_and _notify your parents that you're here." She then did as she said, and let loose four owls with notes tied to their talons.

"Why do you have so many owls?" asked Gerald, curiously.

"When you run a wand business, you _need_ lots of messengers," Samantha explained, while getting out mugs of assorted origin and pouring tea into them, and passing around the cream and sugar. "Now," she said when she had sat down, "what's with you coming to Diagon Alley at all hours in the morning?"

# # #

The letters sent by owl could not have been more welcome to Hayley and Rob's family - as they had gotten up, feeling something was amiss, found that their children were missing. Hayley got quite a shock when she came downstairs to a mess of floo powder, a chair, and the burners on the stove, and was fairly hysterical until the owl from Samantha arrived.

On the other hand, Sarah and the twins' families were rather indifferent to the news until they got it - they were still sleeping when the owls arrived. But you could imagine their shock when they got word of what their children had done.

A few moments afterwards, six irate, slightly damp adults burst in the room, and stomped up the stairs to Samantha's house.

"God," Grace muttered, putting her head into her hands. "Here we go."

The door to the kitchen slammed open, and looking quite reminesant to Angels of Death, the adults lurched in the room, with Hayley frantically balancing a sleeping Christopher on her hip. The children shifted nervously in their seats, seeming to take a great interest in the wooden tabletop all of a sudden.

"So," Robert said, low and dangerously. Sarah opened her mouth, but Samantha cut her off.

"Oh, don't even start, Sarah," she said. "Take a look at this," she went on, wrenching the piece of icy white parchment from Helen's grasp and flapping in Hayley's face. "They had a reason for coming."

Hayley - who still looked irked - took the parchment, and scanned it. Her face went nearly as white as the paper before showing it to Sarah.

"I see," Robert said when the scrap of paper went around. "Why didn't you just come to me, Rob?" he asked.

Rob went a little red, and hunched over further. "I-I don't know. It didn't occur to me."

"Well," Sarah said, sighing. "It's not like I ever went to authority for help, either. But," she said, face looking tired, "I do wish you would _tell_ me these things before you go galloping off like that."

"Sorry, Mummy," Susan said in her most fawning voice. Sarah rolled her eyes and cuffed her daughter lightly.

The adults looked at each other wanly. "Maybe it's time we told them," Gabriel said, speaking for the first time.

"Told them what?" asked Seamus in a drowsy voice.

"The story," Samantha said, nodding.

"What story?"

"The story of Sapius, dimwit!" Sarah snapped, being in a foul mood.

Samantha shook her head. "Hayley, why don't you put Chris in here," she invited, pointing to another room to the left, which had a bed in it.

"I don't get it," Gerald said when she had returned. "We already _know_ that story. We've heard it a _thousand_ times."

The adults exchanged glances. "You haven't heard the _whole_ story," Robert said finally.

"Or perhaps even a _true_ one. I've read the history books. Some of the stories are rather ridiculous," Hayley explained.

"Then why not tell the _whole_, _true_ story so somebody can get it right?" asked Helen plainly.

Sarah smiled, showing very white teeth. "Silent amusement," she said haughtily. "Have you ever read a story about yourself, and have the writer get it wrong? It's hilarious."

"That isn't the _only_ reason," Gabriel muttered to the kids.

"Anyway, we might as well get on with it," Samantha hastily put in. "Robert? You do the honors." 

Robert puffed out his cheeks in thought, leaning back in his chair. "Ahh, where to begin? I guess I should start from the top, eh? Well, when we were about your-alls' age, none of us lived in England, with the exception of Gabriel..."

# # #

The next morning dawned pearly gray in the Finnigan household. Gabriel rolled over sleepily and shot a quick glance at the clock on her bedstead before shutting her eyes again. Three quiet seconds later, pandemonium broke loose.

"Get _up_!" she yelled frantically to her sleeping husband. "We've overslept! The kids are going to miss the train!"

Bathrobe half-on, hair astray, Gabriel ran to the twins' room, where they were sleeping peacefully. 

"We've overslept!" she repeated over and over as she shook Gerald and Grace awake. "You're going to miss your train!"

In the fifteen minutes that followed, there was much yelling, tripping, screaming, and chaos in general.

"What about the _wands_?" wailed Grace, who was yanking her golden hair into a ponytail, and putting socks on at the same time.

"Here," Seamus grunted miserably, opening a wooden box and producing two identical wands, handing one to Grace and Gerald each. 

Pointing her wand at the fireplace, Gabriel made a large bonfire in the fireplace, and in her excitement she made the fire a little _too_ big, and soon parts of the living room were engulfed in flames.

"Oh _damn_!" Gabriel yelled, preparing to soak a flaming chair. 

"Just never _mind_!" Seamus shouted back. "I'll take care of it. They need to get to the train!" he said, obviously meaning Gerald and Grace. "Send me letters!" he called after them as Gabriel tossed floo powder into the fire.

# # # 

They arrived at the platform seconds before the train was leaving. Rob was standing guard at one of the compartments, and he waved them over. "We've saved a seat for you!" he called grimly. "We were late too."

They hauled the trunks in the back of the compartment, and the twins' collapsed tiredly on one of the seats.

"What a morning," Gerald muttered.

Grace looked around. The compartment was predictably a rectangle shape, and this particular one had seats on the perimeter of the boxy room, so everyone was facing each other, like a conference room. Grace didn't recognize most of the people in the compartment, besides her friends - and one other person.

"He invited us in here," Helen said, blind eyes looking in the direction of Alexandre, who was chatting with Susan, and coolly adding a word here and there to the girl behind him. "It was the only compartment left with adequate room for all of us anyway," she added.

"It isn't _so _bad," Gerald muttered. "There's some other blokes in here as well," he said, motioning to the others in the room with them. What's your name?" he asked in the same breath, looking at a little redheaded girl sitting beside him.

She looked up, startled. "Karen. Karen Weasley," she said, fiddling with her left pigtail. "And you?"

"I'm Gerald, and this is Grace-"--he jabbed at his sister with his thumb--"-Finnigan. That kid with the glasses is Robert Ravenclaw the second, that's Helen, was it Color-Carloton? Yeah, and the one that's over there yapping away is Susan Harrisford."

"Who's she talking to?" Karen asked, leaning forward to look at Alexandre.

"That's Alexandre Malfoy."

"Oh. Wait. Did you say that that boys name was Robert _Ravenclaw_?" she asked suspiciously.

Rob sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. _Here we go_, he thought absently. "Yes. That's my name. Please call me Rob, however. I don't like my full name."

Karen stared, but didn't say anything more to him. "Really. So, what house do you want to be in?"

There was an assorted chorus of 'Gryffindors', 'Ravenclaws', 'Hufflepuffs', and 'Slytherins' from the six people sitting on the same side of the compartment.

"Strange," Karen commented. "Most people who know each other want to be in the same house. I think being in Gryffindor is the way to go for me, however, but if I can't get that, I'd like to be a Ravenclaw."

"Why does everybody hate the Slytherins?" Susan pouted, turning away from Alexandre for the moment. "It's not like we're all little Volde- You-Know-Who's," she finished hastily, remembering at the last moment not to say the name.

"I don't hate all the Slytherins," Grace said, "your mom is pretty cool."

"Yeah," Gerald added, "and she has cool cars."

"_And_," Rob said, kicking Gerald in the foot, "she was one of the ones that defeated the Dark Lord anyway. I don't think that _you_ should have any problem with amnesty from the other Houses."

"What?" Karen asked, not getting the gist of the conversation.

Rob sighed. "Susan's mother is Sarah Slytherin. Mr. and Mrs. Big Mouth over there-" he pointed at the twins, "mother is Gabriel Gryffindor. And Helen's mother is Hayley Hufflepuff. Now that you know we have famous heritage, could we get onto other topic of conversation?" he asked, slightly pink in the cheeks. He didn't want people fussing over him because of who he was friends with and who he was related to.

Karen seemed to get that by the tone of his voice. "So I see. You wouldn't know my mother - she's a muggle, but my father is Fred Weasley. You might know him."

"We've heard stories," Helen said, grinning.

Karen giggled, shaking her head so her pigtails flopped about. "Haven't we all?"

# # #

Meanwhile, the parents of the ones on the train were still standing at platform nine and three-quarters, watching the train slink out of sight.

"Well," Gabriel said, "that's that. I assume that Robert is already at Hogwarts, Hannah?" she asked.

Hannah nodded. "Yes. He left last night. Gracious, an entire year in an empty house, now that Rob's left. What will I do with all of the time?"

"You can come out to lunch with us," Hayley interjected, looking at her watch. "You could go and get your husband, Gabriel."

Gabriel smirked. "I had better, or the big lump will be whining all day about how I didn't take him out to eat. What about you, Sarah?"

Sarah turned slightly pink and shook her head. "I can't. Maybe tomorrow?"

Hayley's ears perked up at Sarah's unusually civil response. "And why not?"

"I was already invited by somebody," she replied shortly.

A wide grin split across Gabriel's face. "Oh, man! It's Draco! You were asked on a _date_ with Drakey-wakey!" she burst into unstoppable gales of laughter.

"Shut up!" Sarah wailed. "It's not a date!"

Hayley cracked a grim smile. "Of course it isn't, Sarah dear. Go on, you don't want to be late."

Nose in the air, but a smile playing around her lips, Sarah disapperated.

"-for your date," Hayley finished.

Gabriel had her handkerchief over her mouth, and was sputtering into it. "This is _great_. Oh, oh man. Well, anyway, there's a nice place down the street - and we're wearing muggle clothes, so why don't we walk?"

"I just hope Sarah knows what she's doing," Hannah said, shaking her head.

"What do you mean?" asked Hayley sharply, looking over the rims of her glasses.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Hannah said mildly. "The Malfoys are _heavily_ involved in the Dark Arts."

Gabriel and Hayley stopped dead in their tracks, and looked at each other.

# # #

On the way to Hogwarts, the weather had gotten pretty nasty with black stormclouds and an increasingly darkening landscape. But nobody seemed to notice inside the train, as everybody was gobbling sweets and swapping riddles to pass the time.

"Mmm!" Karen Weasley said, licking chocolate off of her finger. "I have one!"

__

"A metaphorical blade,

Though no sharper than dirt,

A forest to an ant,

A lady's skirt."

There was silence in the compartment as everybody chewed, and thought.

"A metaphorical blade?" asked Alexandre, biting into an Every Flavor bean, and promptly choking on it. "Egg white... yuk!"

"I don't get it," Gerald said, chancing to look at Grace, who was smiling smugly. "I think that Gracie knows," he said darkly.

Grace nodded. "It's grass! Oh, I do so love these riddle things."

Karen smiled at Grace and nodded

"Grass? Oh, _I _get it now," Rob said thoughtfully, sipping pumpkin juice. "A blade of grass, a forest to an _ant_, a grass skirt... very clever, Karen."

Karen blushed. "Thank you, Robert."

Susan grinned at everybody, and bit into a pumpkin pasty. "Imm goff a 'diddle!"

Helen giggled. "Susan, swallow your food."

"I've got a riddle!" Susan repeated, after swallowing.

_"What can speak,_

But has no face?

What can walk,

But go no place?

"What can stalk,

Unseen, but heard,

What never argues,

But always has the last word?"

"What?" asked Rob. Susan repeated the riddle for him.

"How can you walk, and go no place?" inquired Karen. "Is it a muggle treadmill?"

"What's a tread-mill?" asked Alexandre, confused.

"Nevermind. It stalks, unseen, but heard? Damn, Susan, this one is a good one. Hint?" asked Gerald.

Susan sighed as she unwrapped another pasty. "You find this thing in places like caves. And it's rather deceiving to say that it walks... it really doesn't."

This was of little help to anyone, until nearly three minutes later; Grace clapped her hands together. 

"It's an echo, isn't it, Sue?" she asked.

"Don't call me Sue. But yes, it is an echo."

Helen turned her head in the direction of Susan and Grace. "Well, it does make a little bit of sense, granted, but I'm not too sure it's fair to consider an echo walking."

Grace grinned with maddening superiority. "I love riddles. Does anybody have any more?"

Rob was about to open his mouth, before the train came to a grinding halt, nearly throwing all of the passengers forward out of their seats with surprise. The door to the left opened.

"Firs' years over 'ere!" a burly voice called.

Gerald smiled. "That must be Hagrid!"

From the corner of his eye, Rob thought that he could see a slight line of irritation form between Alexandre's brows, but he didn't voice this. Instead, he opted to squish through the door with everybody else, and stand on the pebbled spot to get in line for a boat.

Susan looked around. On their left was a river of water with many boats bobbing in the iron-gray waters, and on the right carriages were lined up for the older students. Helen gripped her arm tightly, as she was lead by Susan into a boat.

All five of them (Alexandre had spotted some other friends) managed to squeeze into a boat that was only meant for four people. The wind picked up, throwing mist into the air.

"I wish he would hurry," Rob said, glancing meaningfully at Hagrid, who was still herding students into boats. What seemed like an eternity later, Hagrid climbed into the front boat, and they started off.

"Oooh," Helen said, squirming in her seat. "I'm so _excited!_"

"Watch yer 'eads!" Hagrid called, and they all ducked low to avoid being decapitated by a low hanging eave with ivy. When they were past that, they came upon a bend in the lake.

"Ye'll get yer first view o' Hogwarts in a moment," Hagrid said as they rounded the bend.

When they did so, there was a chorus of 'Oooos' and 'Ahhhs', but the five in the boat didn't say anything - they were too awed.

The entire castle was of a shimmering wet-sand color (most likely from the moisture in the air), and turrets sprouted from every direction. There were stained-glass windows in some of the panes, and others were shaped into things like unicorn heads and some sort of flora that Rob couldn't recognize. The western wing of it was swathed in what appeared to be purple ivy - though the plant seemed to be melting into a soft russet color as they looked at it - and was altogether a magnificent building.

While everybody was gawping at the castle, the boats had stopped, and Hagrid had to call everybody to attention so they could get out of the boats. Once they had done so, the first years plodded in the gargantuan castle, where they met a very old, severe-looking lady.

"Wait here," the lady instructed them, before turning to Hagrid. "You may go to the Great Hall now."

Hagrid tipped his hat to the lady, winked at the trembling first years, and strolled out the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

The lady looked them over, before adjusting her spectacles. "I am Professor McGonagall, to those that don't know, or haven't heard torture stories from your parents. I'm going to see if the Great Hall is ready for you yet - wait here."

Professor McGonagall left the room, and whispers exploded throughout the Great Hall. Almost as soon as she left, there was a colorful explosion, and a drenching of freezing cold water.

"Ickle Firsties alla wetsie?" a wicked voice cackled, watching the first years run around, trying not to get wet.

"That's Peeves!" several voices called out.

"He broke my mum's trunk!"

"Never mind your mum's trunk! I'm all _wet_!"

There was a sound like a firework going off, and Peeves zoomed off, cursing black words. The first years looked up to see their savior, and their eyes met a smiling woman, smoothing back long hair with an absent hand, while the other was slightly smoking.

"Hello," she said pleasantly. "I'm your Charms teacher, Professor Wazird. But you may call me Professor W. if you'd rather. You're first years, I assume?"

All heads nodded dumbly.

"Well, I suggest you get used to the antics of Peeves quickly - you'll have seven years of him. I'll see you in the Hall." With that, she swept gracefully off.

More whispers cascaded through the hall. "Semvara," Alexandre muttered in Susan's ear.

"What?"

"I had heard that one of the teachers here was a semvara - Professor W. must be it... you saw her finger, didn't you?"

Susan shrugged, but didn't have time to ponder over semvara professors, because at that time, Professor McGonagall had come back in the room, nostrils flaring like a snake's when she saw their soaking clothes.

She muttered under her breath something that sounded like 'Peeves, I expect', and flicked her wand. In an instant, water started rising out of the fabric of their clothes, and a large puddle was soon wavering over everybody's heads. Before anybody had a good look at the levitating water, Professor McGonagall flicked her wand again, and it was gone.

"Come," she ordered brusquely, "we are ready."

The first years obeyed, walking through an assortment of impressive rooms before a very large set of doors swung open, and the Great Hall, in all of it's splendor loomed before them.

It was every bit as magnificent as their parents had described it to them. Four large, rectangular tables sat, one in each corner of the huge room, each one adorned in either green, red, yellow or blue in coordination of the house colors. In the back of the room, where large windows took up the entire wall, the High Table jutted out between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, swathed in a white and golden tablecloth. The celing was the exact same as the weather outdoors - huge black thunderheads swirled against a pewter-gray sky.

In the very center of the Hall sat a stool, and a scroll. Professor McGonagall worked her way out of the throng of first years and picked up the scroll - and in the same movement, set a ratty looking hat on the stool. The hat opened at the brim, and began to sing:

__

I can tell what you're thinking,

As I sing this song.

You want to know where you've come from,

And where you belong.

Well, first year,

Leave all the thinking to me,

__

I can make your decision simple,

I'll place you where you ought to be.

Maybe you're a Gryffindor,

Where the brave reside,

Under the bold and brash exterior,

A lion may dwell inside.

What about a Hufflepuff?

Who stand for naught but the right,

Honest and loyal to the core,

A badger, that can see beyond sight.

Or perhaps a Ravenclaw,

Where lives the logic and wise,

Sharp as a blade, knowledgeable as a book,

For the eagle, there is no compromise.

Even a Slytherin,

Sly and devious as their name,

Slippery as an eel, charming as a cobra,

Is what brings the snake honor and fame.

So try me on,

For below the surface I see,

I will place you where you belong,

In the house that you ought to be!

The Hall erupted into cheers, especially the first years. Professor McGonagall unrolled the scroll, and read the first name off (Megan Abromivitch) who turned out to be a Ravenclaw. Names were called out, such as Casey Brandt (Hufflepuff) or Martin Brown (Gryffindor), before the hat shouted:

"_Carloton, Helen!_"

A few of the more bookish people whispered behind their hands - they knew the child of Hayley Hufflepuff when they saw her. Helen stood uncomfortably for a few moments, not being able to see the stool.

"C'mon!" someone from the Slytherin table jeered. "We don't have all day!"

Grace grabbed Helen's hand, and roughly steered her around. "Walk straight - as long as you don't veer off, you should be okay," she muttered through clenched teeth, glaring in the direction of the Slytherin table.

Helen nodded weakly and started inching her way forward. But she needn't have worried about missing the hat, for as soon as she took a step, she felt an odd pulling at her feet, compelling her to walk in a certain direction. Before she knew it, she was sitting on the stool, and the hat was plopped over her head, and she felt the brim of it rest easily on the edge of her nose.

_"Sorry about that,"_ a breezy voice whispered in her ear. _"I forgot for a moment you were blind - anyway. I should hope you know where I'm placing you, but I have a message. The blind do not see what one looks like; you see what things are like. All right?"_

_"Hufflepuff!"_ the hat screamed.

Helen frowned and hesitated to take that hat off for a moment - what did that mean, 'seeing what things are like'? Helen couldn't see at all. 

Shrugging, she pulled off the hat, and a burst of golden shimmer shot through her eyes. She visibly flinched from the brightness, but was used to odd color explosions in her retinas by now. She set the hat neatly on the stool, and took her place at the Hufflepuff table.

More names called out. Casey, Derek turned out to be a Slytherin, while Emmre, Samantha joined Helen at the Hufflepuff table.

"_Finnigan, Gerald!_"

By now Gerald had gone so pale that his blue eyes appeared like pain on his waxy features. But he walked up and grabbed the hat, which fell over his eyes.

_"Gryffindor_!" the hat called out, almost immediately.

_"Finnigan, Grace!_"

Grace swaggered up, and pulled the hat on. There was actually a few seconds of a lull, while the hat spoke to Grace. Grace's features contorted in what appeared like horrified shock, but then she grimly nodded.

_"Gryffindor!"_ was the call, and Grace took her place next to her brother, looking quite pale and forlorn. Susan couldn't figure out for the life of her why, but decided not to voice it.

"You're next," Rob informed his friend.

"Thanks," Susan said stiffly, as Handock, Laura became a Slytherin. That was soon followed by a flurry of other names, before Susan was called up.

The hat sat on her head for awhile, and Rob noticed Susan's lips moving - she was talking to the headwear. Soon, the hat called out, almost dully:

_"Slytherin!"_ as if the hat almost didn't want to say it. Soon after, Alexandre was summoned.

He walked calmly to the hat and put it on. There was virtually no time before the hat cried out:

_"Slytherin!"_

Alexandre took his place at the great green table and thumped Susan on the back, who rolled her eyes and knocked him over the head.

Rob's food turned to lead in his stomach as names were called out, and shunted to the different tables. He would have given anything to have a different last name than he had. But the inevitable soon arrived.

_"Ravenclaw, Robert!"_

Whispers hissed along the walls like fire. There was a kid among them that was related to the headmaster, and presumably to the founder. Rob swallowed and timidly yanked the hat over his head, glad that it fell over his eyes.

_"A Ravenclaw, eh? Goodness, that's an odd thing to hear. No need to get sloppy, now that I'm almost done."_

"Erm," Rob said, unsure if he was supposed to answer the statement. "Nope."

The hat gave something of a chuckle. _"Watch out for black skies, Rob."_

_"Ravenclaw!"_ the hat sang, pleased with itself.

Rob ambled his way over to the blue-swathed table where people were clapping for him. After sitting down, Rob looked at his father, who was seated at the High Table. Robert the first gave his son the tiniest wink before resuming watching the Sorting.

"Watch out for black clouds?" Rob muttered to himself. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" He then lost all track of the Sorting, but he remembered to clap politely when Karen was sorted into Gryffindor.

"The blind see what things are?" Helen asked nobody in particular.

Gerald and Susan were muttering things to themselves too - obviously about what the hat had told them. All except for Grace, who was looking at the floor dejectedly, humming a few bars of _Amazing Grace_ under her breath.

# # #

Far, far away, a bugle played taps along with Grace's humming.

# # #

"Thanks for lunch," Sarah said to Draco, awkwardly. They had just apperated to the front of Sarah's penthouse, after a meal at one of London's finest muggle restaurants. The food was good, but Sarah found it hard to converse about things, when Lucius was hovering over them like a dragonfly.

"It was my pleasure," Draco said courteously, looking over her shoulder at his father, who was leaning up against a wall in the hallway, covering a yawn with his hand. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

There was silence for a few tense seconds when Draco reached into his pocket. "Before I forget, I brought something for you."

"Really?" Sarah asked, throwing a scathing look at Lucius.

Draco produced a round object, wrapped in forest green silk, and tied in a silver ribbon. Sarah pulled the ribbon off, and the wrap fell to the floor.

It was a Lumosphere. A clear orb about the size of a baseball with several floating objects inside, changing color periodically. Sarah laughed.

"I thought you might like it since the last one, well, broke," Draco explained, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Sarah cracked a grim smile at the Lumosphere that she had accidentally brought into the storybook dimension of Sapius, and had broken. "I didn't think you would remember something like that," she drawled. "It was about fifteen years ago."

"Some things you never forget," Draco retorted.

"Draco, we had better go," Lucius said, looking at his watch. Sarah glared at him.

"He's right," Draco said. "Appointments and such... anyway, I'm glad you could come."

"Me too," Sarah said, feeling odd.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed Sarah's cheek, and then pulled back quickly. "See you another time," he supplemented quickly, before apperating away. Lucius followed in suit.

Sarah stood there for a moment, and then raised her hand to the place in the cheek where Draco had kissed her. Abruptly she smashed the door open to her penthouse and ran in, collapsing on the couch, feeling her insides bounce up and down.

Sarah Slytherin was in love.

# # #

"And _this_," the prefect said, sounding bored, "is the girl's dormitories. Any questions?"

The first year Hufflepuffs, who were exhausted, mumbled a chorus of nos, and ambled up the steps to their beds, Helen being the last one, to avoid getting trampled.

Even though Helen couldn't see it, the dormitory room was a stone wall, with lightly yellowed carpet. There was a fireplace with a simple mantle on the left side of the room; a mirror on the right. The bedsteads were a warm honey color with sunny yellow sheets and colors. A warm golden color emitted in front of Helen's eyeballs, showing peace. 

"This one's your bed," a girl said, grabbing Helen's wrist and gently leading her to a bed in the far corner.

"Thank you," Helen said politely, setting on the bed, feeling very full and sleepy. She knew that she ought to put on her pajamas, but felt it too much work. Instead, she opted to roll over and fall asleep, dreams daunted by talking hats.

# # # 

As the castle slept, the black clouds grew denser and more numerous, rumbling an ominous thunder.

# # #

Above the thunder, there was the sound of the squawking of a bugle, and arguing voices.

"Give me the damned trumpet!"

"It's not a trumpet - it's a bugle!"

"I don't care what it is!"

"I'm practicing!" the first voice said defensively.

"I'm trying to sleep!" the other voice snapped.

"Children, children," a voice sarcastically scolded.

"Salazar, shut up. Godric, put the trumpet _away_," a fourth voice demanded, sounding very grumpy.

There was some grumbling, but the commands were heeded, and all was silent again.

# # #

Above, below, and level with the clouds, all slumbered in anticipation for sunrise, which would, hopefully, bring challenges, triumph, musical lessons, or even death.

# # #

A/N: ::eerie music plays:: Oooh, sort of a cliffhanger ending, eh? Well, I hope that this chapter isn't as confusing as my other ones, and please tell me what you think! ^_^

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: Whatever is familiar belongs to somebody else, whatever isn't belongs to me.


	6. Priori Incantatem!

Five weeks had passed since the initial sorting of the first years. Rob, enjoying a rare moment alone, leaned up against the sill of the window and gazed up at the sky.

For the past five weeks, the sky had been the same daunting shade of black. For five whole weeks there had not been a day of sunshine; just black clouds swirling into each other. The stranger thing was that there was no rain either, although there had been the occasional rumblings of thunder. Rob pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. This unnerved him, and on such occasions his mind wandered back to his sorting.

_Watch for black skies,_ the hat had warned, just before sorting him into Ravenclaw, his namesake. Did the hat literally mean black skies, or was it just a metaphor? Shaking his head - no sense in pouring over mysteries he couldn't solve - Rob turned back inside. A figure ran up the hallway. It was Gerald.

"Hey Rob," he said breathlessly, clutching at a stitch in his chest.

"Hello," Rob said, with a dignified air to his voice. "What's up?"

"Nothing much, you?"

"Same old, same old. What did you come barreling up here for?"

"Helen's in the infirmary."

"_What?_"

Gerald shrugged. "There's something wrong with her eyes."

Rob looked at him incredulously, and Gerald shrugged again. "I know, it sounds odd."

"Helen is _blind_," Rob said matter-of-factly. "How can there be something wrong with her eyes that is not already _wrong_?"

Rolling his eyes, Gerald answered. "Don't shoot the messenger. Anyway, your father wants to see us in the infirmary."

Feeling that this couldn't get much stranger, Rob nodded slowly, and followed Gerald.

# # #

"I thought maybe you got abducted by Peeves," Robert the eldest said dryly to his son and escort.

"Sorry, Professor Ravenclaw," Gerald said, taking a seat by Helen's bed, who was sleeping. "What's the matter with her?"

Robert removed his eyeglasses and rubbed at his eyes. "She says that her eyes have been bothering her."

Susan, who had been standing at the head of the hospital bed, looked at her sleeping friend. "How so?"

Leaning back, the professor that was Robert shook his head. "She claims that she has been seeing flashes of green and red recently - very suspicious, considering the weather we've had around here," he said, meaning the constant black cloud cover.

"What green and red?" Grace asked. "What does that have to do with _anything_?"

Robert sighed and replaced his glasses. "I can't know for sure, but I think she's a Born Auror."

"_What?_" four voices chorused at once.

"A Born Auror. It means - oh God - well, she can sense evil. Rather, a sixth sense that most people are born without - BA syndrome is found in about one in fifty thousand people."

"You mean, Muggles have it too?" asked Rob, fascinated.

"Well, a more diluted sense of it. They call it ESP."

"ESP?"

"Not sure what it stands for," Robert said with a rueful smile. "But it means you can sense things before they happen."

"So, Helen can sense evil?" Gerald asked skeptically.

Robert nodded. "It is probable. Most of the time, BA syndrome happens in people when they are born without one of their senses - for example, Helen can't see, so she can see the colors of evil. A deaf person might hear ringing in their ears, and so on."

"Wow," Susan remarked, impressed.

"So," Grace suddenly asked, "does that mean that the clouds outside are evil?"

Robert shrugged. "I have no way of knowing - in Hogwarts, there is too much disturbance for me to tell you. Defense Against the Dark Arts, for one."

"Oh," Susan said. Then, changing the subject; "when will Helen be out of the infirmary?"

"When you leave and give the poor girl enough time to recover!" a shrill voice burst out of the office door. Everyone whirled around to see Madame Pomfrey, still going strong in her sixties, storming over to them. "Okay, everybody _OUT_," she demanded.

Robert gave a resigned sigh, and stood up. "She's right," he said, herding the students out the door. "Run along now, you'll be late for class."

# # #

In the five weeks that had passed since the first 'outing-that-was-most-certainly-not-a-date', things had gotten a little more serious in the relationship between Draco Malfoy and Sarah Slytherin. For one thing, Lucius had stopped tagging along on their dates - but this was mostly because Sarah had finally lost her temper and transfigured him into a toad on their second date.

One day, Draco gathered his nerve and went to go and ask his father's advice on something. He slowly plodded up the stairs, thinking of what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. He knocked on the door.

"What is it?" a voice snapped inside, sounding rather croaky - Lucius Malfoy hadn't totally gotten over the effects of his adventures as Lucius the Toad yet. 

"Father?" asked Draco, almost pitifully timid, opening the door.

"Yes?" asked Mr. Malfoy, setting down his novel and turning to face his son.

"Got a moment?"

"I don't 'Got a moment', but if you have something to say, yes, I will listen to it."

Draco stepped in and restlessly shifted from foot to foot for a moment, before drawing a breath.

"How long do people spend courting before they're engaged?" he asked, quickly and bluntly.

Mr. Malfoy's eyebrows shot up so fast his son was surprised that they didn't hit the ceiling. "Well... most of the time, people in our class, they have _arranged_ marriages... so they're known about for nearly ten years before the deed is done."

"I'm not talking about arranged marriages."

"I wouldn't have much of an idea, then."

"Oh." Draco turned to leave.

"This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that Sarah Slytherin, would it?" Mr. Malfoy inquired as Draco's foot was on the threshold. Draco winced.

_What do you think?_ he asked himself in his mind. But he didn't dare speak so saucily out loud. "Yes, Father," he muttered, crimson exploding all over his face.

Mr. Malfoy just shook his head and returned to his novel. This surprised Draco. He expected his father to explode in a tirade of disapproval and forbid him to take any such course of action.

"You are surprised," Mr. Malfoy said after Draco lingered, "You are surprised I don't disapprove."

"Well..."

"Let's just say that I don't exactly like _what_ she is, but I do like _who_ she is," Mr. Malfoy said carelessly, turning a page in his book.

Draco nodded slowly, backing out and shutting the door. After he was out of his father's bedchamber, he stood outside the door, thinking. That wasn't really the reason he wanted his father to approve of his hopefully soon-to-be bride, but after his last marriage had turned out to be such a disaster, he supposed he should be happy that his father cared for Sarah at all.

Shaking his head, Draco swept down the halls.

# # #

Professor Wazird walked around the room, looking at each students work in her class - charms. Today, they were working on the lifting spell, _Wingardium Leviosa_.

"Come on, Longbottom!" the professor said, rapping her knuckles on Winston Longbottom's desk sharply. "Flick that wand! I want to see some _spirit_ in that stick of balsa! Quincy, _accentuate_ those w's! I want to _hear_ that 'gar', Thomas! Hear it! _Feel _it!"

"I'll give her something to hear," Grace muttered in the back of her brother's ear, staring at the professor.

"Shut up," Gerald told her tersely, shaking his wand. "_Wing-gar-dium Le-vo-SA_!" he yelled at the feather he was supposed to be levitating. The feather flew about three inches in the air, and began to fall. Grunting his frustration, Gerald flicked the wand harder, sending the feather across the room... right into Professor Wazird's awaiting palm.

"Very nice, Finnigan," the professor told Gerald as she settled the feather before her. "But you're just supposed to do it like this - _WINGARDIUM LEVOSA_!" she bellowed, so loudly that the rest of the class turned. Looking at the feather, Professor Wazird raised her palms, and the tiny feather levitated ten feet off the table. "And if you want to move it," she went on, not taking her eyes off the feather, "go like this." she flicked her hands towards Gerald, and it landed neatly on his desk. "Only you do it with a wand."

The professor winked one of her hazel eyes at Gerald slightly. Gerald went purple in the face and made a gurgling noise in his throat. But Professor Wazird didn't see this - she was off bellowing at Karen Weasley. "I want to hear those syllables!" she boomed at the redheaded girl. "Don't make a face at me Weasley, inhale that air - it's good for you! - and _use_ it! _Windgardium Levosa_! Say it with me, kiddies! _Wingardium Levosa_!"

"_Wingardium Levosa_," the class repeated dutifully. "_Wingardium Levosa_."

When the class had repeated it about ten times, Gerald found himself the last one yelling. "_Windgardium Levosa_!" he roared.

The class tittered.

Gerald went red in the ears.

# # #

"Ugh," Grace said when they were safely out of the presence of Professor Wazird. "That was like boot camp in Charms."

"Shut up," Gerald ordered his sister sternly. "I think we'll learn a lot."

Grace stopped dead in her tracks, with her brother still walking, until Gerald noted that he was walking by himself. "What is it?" he asked.

A slow, devilish grin spread slowly across Grace's face, like honey. "You _like_ Professor Wazird," she said.

"I do not!" Gerald protested half-heartedly.

Fortunately for Gerald, Susan came barreling up, looking ecstatic. "A dueling club!" she exhaled happily. "There's a dueling club next hour!"

"What?!" the twins asked in unison, Charms forgotten. They both dug out their new schedules. Sure enough:

__

Lunch - 11:30

Charms (single class) - 12:30

OPTIONAL - Dueling club OR Flying lessons - 1:30

"What do you do if you don't go to the dueling club or Flying lesson?" asked Grace. 

"I suppose you just do homework, or have free time," Susan shrugged. "We can do Flying Lessons _tomorrow. _Let's go to the Dueling club."

"Oh, if it means so much to you, _all right_," Gerald complied, following his friend down the halls.

# # # 

"Hello," Professor Potter said, mouthing the words to the three newcomers. "Sit down and be quiet," he finished, winking at the three.

Professor Harry Potter had taken over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class three years ago - a new record, some joked. His wife, Professor Hermione Granger, taught the Arithmancy class, which none of them would have until next year, at least. Everybody was thankful that Professor Granger had kept her last name - two Professor Potters would have been too much.

"Right then," Professor Granger said, quickly scanning the crowd, consisting of about twenty first years. Rob walked in, followed carefully by Helen, who had cajoled Madam Pomfrey to let her out of the infirmary. Susan beckoned to them, and they all sat in the corner.

"The first thing you should know about dueling here," Professor Potter said, pushing hair out of his eyes, "is that you are _not_ allowed to use _any_ of these spells without a professor's written consent. Otherwise, we will cancel the dueling club. Do we have an understanding?"

There was a muttering of 'yes, Professor' throughout the room. Professor Granger smiled toothily.

"Okay. Now, who knows the _first_ spell there is to dueling?"

Winston Longbottom and Shirley Quincy's hands shot up simultaneously.

Professor Granger nodded to them both, and they answered in unison. "_Expelliarmus_, the disarming spell."

Professor Potter nodded vigorously. "Yes. It is one of the easiest spells to begin with - _and_ it can be a vital move that can save your life - if you can get your opponent to lose his weapon. Watch please."

Professors Potter and Granger stood about three meters parallel to each other, bowed, and each took a step back from the other, raising their wands in dueling arcs.

"_Expelliarmus_!" they both yelled. Scarlet magic boomed, and a moment later, two wands flew to opposite sides of the room. Everybody cheered.

"Now," Professor Granger said after retrieving her wand, "there are ways to _block_ the _Expelliarmus_ spell, but the easiest one consists of crucial timing. This particular one is rather diverse, it has effect on most simple dueling curses."

"So, it wouldn't work on the Dark Arts," Professor Potter said with a grin.

The professors went into proper dueling stance again, raising their wands.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Professor Potter said, and the scarlet magic flamed again.

"_Infuera_!" Professor Granger yelled, and a bolt of sharp yellow flew out of her wand, and wrapped around the billowing red cloud, and squeezed like a cobra. The red cloud lost the fight, and dissipated. The students cheered again.

"With _Infuera_, however, your aim has to be _perfect_, or the spell will miss, and be no good. Who would like to try?" Professor Potter asked, scanning the crowd.

Hands shot up like fast-growing plants. "Oh, how about... Miss Harrisford... and Mr. Ravenclaw. Mr. Jordan, stop bouncing about like that!"

Rob and Susan nodded to each other, and grabbed their wands. Professor Potter took over Susan, while Professor Granger planted Rob's feet together.

"Now, Miss Harrisford is going to do the _Expelliarmus_, while Mr. Ravenclaw tries his hand at _Infuera_. Go on," Professor Granger prompted.

Susan slung her arm back. "_Expelliarmus_!" she cried. Crimson streaked out of her wandtip.

"_Infuera_!" Rob cried, after lining up his shot. It wasn't too hard to aim at, since Susan wasn't good at condensing spells, and the large crimson cloud was easy to hit. His aim was perfect.

The spells met, and - Rob's wand started buzzing alarmedly. He looked around in surprise, was this supposed to happen? Looking across, he saw that Susan's wand was behaving in the same way...

A golden thread was strung between the wands where red and yellow light had been before - the class was screaming and running around, the professors were shouting to each other, trying to figure out what to do...

An invisible hand closed around the back of Rob's robes, lifting him off the ground. He shrieked in alarm, kicking and scrambling for the ground that was now about three feet below his feet... Susan was screaming loudly as well...

The wands started to vibrate, and the two grabbed onto their wands tightly by both hands, not wanting to let go and topple to the ground. The thread of gold seemed to snap, and crisscrossed patterns of golden light enclosed around the wandbearers. The sounds outside were muffled now, and the wands were shaking more furiously than ever.

"_What is going on?_" Susan cried, kicking her feet around.

"I - don't know..."

Susan's thrashing had gotten a hole punctured in the golden web. Many more professors and classes had filtered into the room to watch the spectacle. People were shouting, and finally, the unmistakable sound of Professor Potter's voice - 

"_Priori Incantatem_!" he was shouting above the turmoil. "It's _Priori Incantatem_!"

Back in the web, more odd things were happening. There was a sudden screech of the wands, and Rob's wand got so hot he was afraid of it bursting into flame. Then, echoes of his voice started to ring about the room...

"_Infuera_!" the echoes of Rob said. Bright yellow flew out of the back of his wand, to zoom around the bubble.

"_Wingardium Levosa_!" another echo said. A chair on the other end of the room flew into the air.

"_Plateum Maleurm_!" Rob's voice said from the wand. Green fires exploded around the room.

"_Reneklovitz_!" A teapot in the back of the room started to turn into a turtle, but didn't quite make it - it still had the pattern of roses on the shell, and it was breathing steam.

"It's saying all of the incantations I did today!" Rob cried over the din of the crowd.

Then, it all stopped. The web of gold went away - the golden thread did not connect the wands anymore, and they were suspended in the air by a gentle force. They looked down, and saw Professor Wazird, who had both of her fists clenched, as if holding onto something. She lowered her fists, and Rob and Susan came down with them. When they were safely on the ground again, Professor Potter approached them.

"Do you have any similar elements in your wands?" he asked them, in a clipped voice.

"Well," Rob said, looking at his magical wood, "they're _supposed_ to be the exact same thing."

"What?" asked Professor Granger, who had just finished ushering all of the other students and professors out of the room.

Susan sighed, and gave a recap of what happened at the wand store. Professor Potter rubbed his forehead and addressed the class.

"What you have just witnessed is _Priori Incantatem_, a reaction when two alike wands are forced to battle against each other. The spells you heard Mr. Ravenclaw yelling were actually _echoes_ of spells he had done earlier - one of the two wands always regurgitates the last few spells that the wandbearer has done - if we had let the reaction last longer, more spells would have happened. Any questions?"

Allison Taide raised her hand. "I have unicorn hair in my wand. If I dueled against, say, Karen, and she had unicorn hair in her wand, would Pri-whatever happen?"

Professor Granger shook her head. "Good question, Taide. Unless the unicorn hair was from the same unicorn, no, it would have battled as usual. The reason why Harrisford and Ravenclaw's wands reacted like that, was because they have the _exact _same wands, and the same would have happened between the Finnigans, and Helen if we had them pared against each other," she explained. "Anyway, I think that's enough excitement for one class period. The Dueling Club meets again tomorrow. You are dismissed."

Everybody scuttled out of the room, chattering like mad about what had happened. Rob and Susan discreetly made their way to their next class.

# # #

On this particular outing, Draco had taken Sarah out for dinner again - this time to a very fancy, elite restaurant called Le Ficelle. It was named for the constant string playing at the concert shell in the middle, and the restaurant was filled with the rich sound of cellos, the double bass, violas, violins, and the harp.

Sarah fidgeted in her seat. As nice as Le Ficelle was, she couldn't help but feel nervous. Most of the people here were well bred; high-society figures who knew which fork to use. Sarah was none of these things, and she felt out of place. Once, on accident, she had dropped her fork.

"Bother!" she whispered. But before she could bend over, a servant had whisked to her side, picked up the fork, and handed her a new, clean one.

"Um... Wow. Thanks. You, ah, shouldn't have?" Sarah asked, feeling stupider by the second.

The servant looked mildly amused, but bowed, and retreated back into the line of servants by the walls. Sarah blinked after him.

"They're not that used to being thanked," Draco said mildly. Sarah scowled.

"It's not like I'm Miss Manners," she said darkly.

Draco grinned as another butler came up with a flask of wine.

"Sir?" he asked, removing the cork and handing it over to Draco to smell.

"Yes yes, it's all very well," Draco said with a presumptuous air. The waiter poured a little into Sarah's glass and a little into Draco's before bowing, placing the wine in a bucketful of ice, and walking away.

They drank in silence for a few moments, before the cello struck up a sort of slow dance, with the other instruments swirling their music gracefully behind its lead.

"Do you dance?" Draco finally asked, swishing what wine was left in his glass around. Sarah looked at him.

"No," she said flatly. 

"Why?"

"I-I don't like it!"

"You don't know how."

"You're right," Sarah agreed, chagrined.

"Come on, then," Draco said, pulling her to her feet, "I'll teach you how."

Sarah's heart thudded in her chest. "Since you're set on it so, I suppose."

The pair walked out to the dance floor, and Draco planted his hand on Sarah's hip, while Sarah reached up slightly (she wasn't that much shorter than he) to put her hand on his shoulder, and they clasped hands.

"This particular dance isn't that hard," Draco was saying. "Follow my lead. One-two-three, one-two-three..."

There were few others on the dance floor, and those that were were merely talking, so they moved out of the way. After a few moments of 'one-two-three'-ing in a circle, Sarah felt that she had gotten the hang of it, and started taking smoother steps around, making the pair look like true dancers, unlike waddling geese.

The song finished, and they went to sit down, among polite clapping for the musicians, and a few bows from the men. Sarah wasn't sure how to react, so she just flashed a smile and hurriedly went to sit down at their table.

"So," Sarah asked once they were seated, "where did _you_ learn how to dance?"

Draco looked rather amused. "I learned when I was younger."

"That helps," Sarah told him sarcastically. Draco just sighed and leaned back on the chair.

The violin struck up a mournfully beautiful chord, with the viola taking over halfway. Draco sighed and looked over at the dance floor. "Come on," he ordered her in a soft voice.

"Come what?" Sarah asked when he grabbed her hand and pulled her back on the dance floor.

Instead of dancing this time, Draco shoved his hands in his pockets and looked her over, head to toe. The music dimmed.

"Remember when we were in our fourth year and I gave you the Lumosphere, and you gave me that butterfly?"

Sarah grinned, remembering Sprite. "I do."

"I liked you ever since then."

Sarah felt her throat close over. "Really?" she managed to croak out. The music was no longer audible - all there was was her fast coming breath, and the thudding of her heart.

"Really." With that sentence, he got down on one knee. The music stopped, the people stopped, the world stopped, it all stopped.

_Oh my God... he's going to... I promised myself I wouldn't get married again... but what does it matter?_ she thought, her eyes glazing over as colors melted into each other. Draco produced a small velvet box, and inside was a golden band, with a nice size diamond on the top. The gemstone flickered with the colors of the rainbow as candlelight bounced off of it.

"Sarah Slytherin, will you marry me?"

Sarah stared down into the gray eyes that looked placidly back. Gray into gray. Identical. Graygray. Her temples started throbbing. 

_We've only been together five weeks... and he wants me to marry him? But, we haven't _known_ each other for five weeks... we've known each other for forever... forever?_

This all condensed into a split second of time as she took a deep breath, her lungs filling with air that felt thick like syrup.

She finally nodded.

"I would love to."

# # #

"Sarah did _what_?" Gabriel Gryffindor shouted upon getting the letter than she and Draco were engaged.

# # #

"They did _what_?" Hannah wanted to know as she went through her mail.

# # #

_Thump_ went Hayley Hufflepuff to the floor when she read that letter.

# # #

"You did _what_?" Lucius Malfoy asked in alarm when Draco broke the news to him.

# # #

Three voices chimed out over the Great Hall.

"_What_?" Robert Ravenclaw asked, looking disbelieving.

"Father did _what_?" Alexandre asked Susan, who was sitting a few places away from him.

"Mum did _what_?" Susan asked, thrusting away from the table.

Helen, Rob, Grace and Gerald rushed over to their table. "What happened?" Rob asked urgently.

Susan had gone pale in the face. "You could safely say that Alexandre and I are related now."

"_What_?!" everybody asked, grabbing the parchment and reading it frantically.

"Some people break up during engagement," Helen said matter-of-factly.

Susan had finally gotten herself under control and shrugged. "As long as Mum is happy, I suppose it doesn't matter."

# # #

Two days later, the skies were black and cloudy and usual, but the Quidditch match went on as normal. Today's match - Ravenclaw verses Slytherin.

"I wish we were old enough to play," Gerald pouted, watching as a Ravenclaw Chaser swerved expertly around a Bludger.

"I do too, so you could get your head bashed in by a Beater, and not bother us anymore," Grace countered crossly.

Gerald grunted at his sister, but resumed watching the game. A few moments later, there was a tap on their shoulders. They turned around to find Professor Wazird standing behind them, frowning at the game.

"This is boring," she said, sitting next to them. Gerald nodded vigorously.

"Very boring. Who wants to play Quidditch I sure don't there are better things to do like study Charms," he said very quickly, gaping at the professor. She looked at him oddly.

"Well, I suppose that that's a good thing... I hated Charms when I was your age... well, a little older than you, actually. Anyway, would you like to do a favor for me? It'll be Charms extra credit."

In reality, the game _was _getting rather boring, the teams being very lopsided (Slytherin was crushing Ravenclaw 164-28), and they were about to leave. "What is it?" Helen asked, turning her head towards the professor.

Professor Wazird sighed and produced a list. "I have to go and get these potion ingredients for Professor Astrilade. Will you go and get them for me?"

Gerald grabbed the list, and looked it over. "Get leaves roots very good bring them back get Charms credit for some I mean get some credit for Charms."

Grace rolled her eyes. "I guess so."

"You'll find everything at the edge of the Forbidden forest, you won't have to go into it. Thanks, I owe you." She left, and the children left the Quidditch stands.

"It'll be more exciting than the Quidditch game," Rob said, plodding along behind.

"Yes," said Susan with a smirk. "We were beating the tailfeathers off of the Ravenclaws - maybe they should call for mercy and get it over with."

Rob glared at her. "When your house plays Gryffindor, I hope you lose. Badly."

"I smell honeysuckle," Helen said hurriedly, not wanting a stupid argument to erupt. "Isn't honeysuckle root on that list?"

It indeed was, and they pulled it up out of the ground, along with bark from an impossible tree, and they found some unicorn hair on a bush - not on the list, but probably helpful in something.

The sky started acting oddly. The clouds started to shift faster than before, and a single drop fell from the sky onto Gerald's hand.

"AARRRRGGGH!" he cried, dropping the bag of potion ingredients and clutching his hand.

"What's wrong?" asked Grace, wrenching Gerald's hand out so she could get a good look at it.

Where the raindrop had been before was a water-shaped burn, of a nasty yellowish color. More rain started to fall, and Helen screeched.

"What?" asked Rob.

"My eyes...!" she said, and they were indeed watering, to the point where her eyes almost looked like liquid, and they spilled over. The burning rain splattered Rob on the nose, and he wailed. 

"Into the forest!" Susan ordered, and they all ran in to avoid getting dowsed with the painful rain.

Back on the Quidditch field, the game had been abandoned in haste, after a short downpour left three Beaters and the Ravenclaw Seeker badly burned.

"Robert, Robert!" Professor Wazird called, tugging him on the arm.

"Where's the fire, Ane?" he asked her, looking down at her.

The professor took a deep breath and spilled out the story in a rush. "And I sent five students into the forest to look for potion ingredients - one of them was your son - and they're not back!"

Robert went deathly pale and looked outside, where the burning rain was coming in a downpour. "It would be suicide to send a search party out - this rain is like no other. I tried to send up a shield, and it was melted down."

Professor Wazird took a breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly and nodded before walking away.

Robert stared, rigid, out the window at the rain. "It's not like I didn't expect it," he said, voice tart. "Tom Riddle... damn him!"

The temper of Robert, so hard to aggravate, was in full swing now. He picked up a plate, threw it in the air, muttered something under his breath, and the plate crumbled.

# # #

When the rain drove harder, the five were forced to recede farther back into the forest, save getting burnt. When they were in an area that was thick enough to keep the rain from eating all the way through the forest, they collapsed against the ground, Helen weeping.

"What's wrong?" Grace asked, alarmed.

"My eyes," she cried, tears streaming out of her blind eyes. "They _hurt_." The green light 0-that had once appeared in flashes was now in full, Technicolor detail, bright and neon and not fading away. It was very painful to Helen, who never really used her eyes.

Everybody felt bad for Helen, but there was not much they could do besides huddle miserably beneath a wide tree and hope that the rain would stop soon.

"What's that?" asked Gerald suddenly, pointing into the woods. Something smoky white was barreling towards them.

"Maybe it's a unicorn?" asked Susan uncertainly.

"That's no unicorn!" Helen said abruptly, rocketing to and fro. "Unicorns are nice creatures!" 

"What's wrong with it?" Rob asked nervously, looking at the white thing that was rapidly approaching. Helen just sobbed harder.

"It's all red and green and _nasty_ and _evil_ and _painful_," she wept. This made everybody very uncomfortable.

The whitish thing came closer and closer before it exploded into a clearing. It was fog. White, gray, thick, cotton-like fog. Susan couldn't see anybody or anything.

"Everybody?" she asked, uncertain. She backed up against the tree and felt around. Her hand hit something soft and fleshy and damp: Helen's hand.

A figure in front of Susan moved - it looked like a shadowy figure of Gerald, and he was running off. "Wait up!" Susan called to the figure, who didn't slow. "Come on!" she ordered Helen, pulling the weeping girl to her feet and following the shadow figure of Gerald into the woods.

Meanwhile, Gerald, Grace and Rob managed to find each other, but Susan and Helen were nowhere to be found.

"Susan?" called Gerald, inhaling a mouthful of the cottony fog and choking. "Helen?"

"Look!" Grace said, pointing to the fog in the distance. It appeared to be Susan running off into the distance, with Helen not far behind.

"Wait!" Rob pleaded, but they didn't slow down. Not thinking twice, they ran after.

"Gerald!" Susan cried to the sprinting figure, "wait!"

Suddenly, Gerald disappeared into the fog. Susan ran faster, trying to catch up. When she got to where Gerald was last seen, she crashed into cold, swampy water, dragging Helen with her.

"Blarrrg!" they both cried, trying to struggled their way out of the murky, cold water. But plant tendrils seemed to snake around their ankles, pulling them down... down... deeper... everything went black.

# # #

"Susan!" Gerald puffed, "wait up!"

"We admit you're in better shape than we are!" Grace called with grim good humor.

Rob didn't say anything; he was having a hard time just keeping up with the twins.

"Hey, where'd Susan go?" Grace asked. "She was up there a moment ago, but now she's gone!"

"She must have run deeper into the fog!" Gerald yelled. "Come on, or we'll lose her!"

Putting on extra bursts of speed, they ran - and found themselves standing on midair. They hovered for a brief second before plummeting.

They screamed loudly, falling though empty space is not fun. But, suddenly the lightheadedness got to them... and they blacked out.

A/N: Well? Do you like? Me hopes. ::sniggers:: What do you think will happen next? ::soap announcer voice:: Stay tuned for the next exciting chapter of The Heirs of the Heirs! ^_~

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: What belongs to J.K. does, what belongs to me does, and what belongs to Virgo does. Okay?


	7. The Return to Sapius

Yellow-green water enveloped Susan's body, blinded her, and rushed through her nostrils and mouth when she tried to take a breath. Grasping her throat, she coughed up a bubble of air, which floated through the murky liquid and made its way to the top. Her shoes were caught deep in the mud, and with a furious kick she released her feet from the boots, but felt herself blacking out from lack of air. As her vision dimmed rapidly, she grasped her wand, waggled it frantically, and felt a very strong force shoot her upwards, and she broke the surface.

She took a deep gulp of oxygen, feeling that she could never get enough. When she came back to her senses, she realized that Helen was not with her.

"Helen?" she asked croakily, kicking her legs weakly and searching the surface. "Helen? Are you there?"

It became apparent that Helen _wasn't_ there, and she felt her strength giving out from kicking, and she started to slip beneath the surface again, arms and legs akimbo. As her head slipped back into the water, she felt her foot hit something soft - _Helen_!

Limbs flailing in a stroke that resembled a front crawl, she grabbed the front of Helen's robe and began a pitiful attempt to haul her to the surface, but she was too weak. Bubbles of air escaped from her mouth, and she fell down again to the silty bottom.

As soon as she hit, light exploded in front of her eyelids, and Susan dimly assumed that she had died, and gave in with a dismayed, watery sigh.

Color exploded many shades of green. Opening her eyes, she saw the water again, and Helen, who had also opened her eyes. They both inhaled, and water slipped down into their lungs, filling them with life-giving air, and renewing them. Untangling themselves from the weed that was on the pond bottom, the twosome clawed their way to the surface, where their heads lifted above the liquid, and took a breath of _real_ air, which made them cough and splutter.

Vomiting up pond water, the two collapsed in the shallows, too exhausted to even climb all the way out of the pond. This was the last Susan knew.

Helen dimly felt strong hands hoisting her up, but assumed it was a dream... and slept again.

# # #

Falling... falling... falling... Grace felt her body twisting cruelly through empty space, and tried to scream, but her voice was too hoarse to do so...

Opening her eyes, she sat up violently, with a throbbing pain in her ankle. But what bothered her more than this was the fact that she was not just falling anymore, she was lying in a comfortable, very large bed, furnished with scarlet and gold tassels and trimmings. Around her were a very large vanity covered in cosmetics and behind her were two large windows, both of which were shut. The walls were a creamy off-white, with a golden candelabra stationed on each. On her left was a plush crimson chair, with a very elegant dress lain out on it, in a floaty shade of ivory, with matching shoes, ear drops and hose.

The door opened. In popped a short, friendly-looking man, with a bushy black moustache and beady eyes. He smiled and bowed to Grace, who blinked at him.

"My lady awakens," said he. Grace shook her head.

"I don't understand," she said dizzily. The man nodded sympathetically.

"Lady Rochelle residence at court found you in the palace grounds - nearly dead. We brought you in here... does my Lady remember her status and name?"

"I'm Grace Finnigan," Grace said, looking startled. "I don't have a status..."

The man looked very grieved. "My Lady... you are Lady Lydia of Greenspring, we know no Grace Finnigan."

Grace drew in her breath sharply and clutched her blanket to her chest. "Who are you?"

"Aduel Jamson, your loyal and obedient, Nobility."

"There must be some mistake - My name's not Lydia..."

"Of course it is, My Lady, you are just confused... Ah, I know somebody who will be very happy to see you!" said Aduel, smiling. "Come on in, Sir Tyrone."

'Sir Tyrone' was a very tall, broad, scarred looking man with a worried look on his face. He was wearing chain mail that was gold-brushed, and had a shield with a yellow background and a green fluer emblazoned on it under one hand. He sat down beside Grace and took her hand in his.

"I was so _worried_, my sweet, what _happened_?" asked Sir Tyrone.

Grace was too horrified to even attempt to answer.

"You do not know," he said quietly. "Surely you remember our betrothal, at least."

Now Grace was terrified and tried to inch away, but her ankle sharply protested with a bolt of pain that nailed her in place. "_Marriage_?" she whispered, blue eyes glazing over.

"The happiest day of our lives," Sir Tyrone answered happily. "Now, please let the ladies assist you in getting dressed so we can go and dine tonight.." the knight trailed off, motioning towards the dress. Grace was now openly gaping, and backed up, making her cry out in pain.

"But you are _injured_," Sir Tyrone simpered, pulling back the blanket and looking at her ankle, which was indeed very swollen. "We shall get a palace healer to deal with this, Lydia, we must.... Aduel, fetch the finest doctor in the palace, your Lady needs healing!" he demanded of the servant, who bowed and left. "Now you just lay back, and..."

But there was no need to try and talk to Grace, or 'Lydia', as she had already fallen back onto her pillows, in a dead faint.

# # #

Gerald was in the midst of having a horrid dream about falling, when he dimly heard voices chatting to themselves.

"I think he's coming around!" one whispered. The voice sounded young and boyish, as well as concerned. 

"Nergh," Gerald said, hauling himself to a straggled sitting position, and looking about.

He was lying on the ground, with a stick of wood in his hands, and a myriad of young boys crowding about over him, blocking the sky.

"Ah," one of the boys said, "there's no keeping Marq down for long."

"Marq?" asked Gerald, voice very muddled. "What's a Marq?"

The boys shifted uncomfortably and looked down at Gerald. "He doesn't remember his name," one of them whispered fearfully.

"Move," a gruff voice ordered. The boys obeyed. A man approached the fallen Gerald, who was squinting and trying to make sense of what was going on. The man knelt down to face Gerald, green eyes rough and piercing.

"Marquell of Edgewood," the man said gruffly, "do you remember anything?"

"Falling," Gerald said. That was all he was sure of at the moment - he had been falling. The tall man snorted.

"Foolish boy, I _told_ you that horse was too big for you, and now you've got a nasty crack on the cranium. Do you remember who _I _am?"

Gerald shook his head.

"I'm your Lord Quentin. Remember that." He shot a look at the boys. "What are _you_ looking at?" Lord Quentin snapped. "Valleyrose, Silver Shore, over here." Two boys stopped and turned around, bowing.

"Yes, My Lord?" they both said in unison.

"Take Edgewood up to his quarters," Lord Quentin ordered.

"Who's Edgewood?" Gerald asked dizzily. "I'm Gerald Finnigan. Where-where's Grace?"

"Got a crack on the head, didn't you?" one of the two boys - either Valleyrose or Silver Shore - asked with a throaty laugh. The two boys lifted Gerald with ease, and one of them pried the stick from his fingers.

"You won't be needing the lance anymore, Marq," he said jovially, throwing it to the side.

With that, they both bore Gerald to his rooms, with Gerald wondering whom exactly this 'Marq' character was.

# # #

Rob blinked into consciousness, lying in a puddle of wet and listening to somebody wail.

"It _would_ be like Martha to pull a stunt like that - dropping the washbasin on Edgar's head... maybe we had better get medical attention," a voice said. 

Rob reached for his glasses, and fumbled them on, finding that there was a large crack in the left lens.

"What?" he asked creakily, feeling ill. Around him were about five people, all dressed identically in kacki-colored breeches, white shirts and black tunics. Looking down at himself, Rob found that he was also dressed in uniform.

"Are you okay?" one of the men asked, a worried frown on his face. "You had a nasty spill there, Eddy."

_Eddy?_ wondered Rob, looking about. He was sitting in a puddle of soapy water, and attempted to move out of it. The man that called him Eddy helped him.

"You must be mistaken," Rob said once he was out of the water. "But my name isn't 'Eddy'. It's Robert, Rob for short." 

The men looked at each other uneasily. "Maybe the spill was worse than we thought," one of the other men said. The man who called him Eddy gave Rob a friendly clap on the knee.

"Your name is Edgar Oplethorn, son of Marie and Samuel Oplethorn. You work at the Castle Sapius and have worked here ever since you were three. Does that ring a bell?"

Rob gaped. "Where am I again?"

"Castle Sapius. Why?"

Rob had to clutch the wall for support. Maybe this was all a dream, caused by thinking about his parents and their adventure at the Castle. But, wasn't Sapius a dead, deserted place of evil? It didn't seem like it.

"We're supposed to be serving the nobles at dinner with the squires," one of the other men said, frowning. "Demendros, I hate that job."

"Demendros?" asked Rob. "What's that?"

"Demendros," the man said frowning, "is the god of all servants and slaves. Eddy, maybe you should stay down tonight."

Rob shook his head. "No, I'm fine. What's your name?"

The man looked affronted. "Smith Barnes. You don't remember?"

"Of course," Rob said quickly, "just making sure. Anyway, what's up with the nobles?"

Smith made a face. "Fetch me this, fetch me that. This beef's too hot, it's too well done, it's too _messy_. I hate serving them."

"I see why," Rob said thoughtfully, rubbing his forehead. "My head hurts."

Before he could protest, Smith hoisted him up into his arms and carried him off. "You need to have a good sleep before tonight."

Rob struggled fruitlessly, and Smith bore him to a rather cramped, small room with a cot on the side, and placed him gently upon it. It wasn't very comfortable, but Rob fell asleep almost as soon as he hit it.

# # #

After the burning rain had stopped, a very large search party had been sent out to scour the Forbidden Forest for the missing children.

The parents of the children had conjugated at a rather small home in the warm tropics, which had happened to belong to Albus Dumbledore. Seamus, Gabriel, Hayley, Robert, Hannah and Chenelle were there, for moral support, as well as Draco, who was Sarah's fiancée.

"Now," Dumbledore said, setting out the tea, "you say you have reason to believe that Voldemort is responsible for all of this."

Sarah's brows furrowed irritably. "Of _course_ he is!" she snapped, in perfect Sarah style. "Who else would conjure burning rain, and use it the second our children were out of the eyes of teachers?!"

Draco squeezed her hand at this, and the facial features of Sarah softened. Robert rubbed his forehead.

"We don't know that for certain, though," he said, in a more reasonable tone than Sarah. "They might be lost in the Forbidden Forest..." he trailed off when he heard an owl tap at the window.

"Excuse me," Albus said, pointing his wand at the window, which clicked open. A tawny brown owl fluttered in, dropped a piece of parchment and flew off. Dumbledore read it, sighed, and folded the parchment back up.

"It appears that the forest was scoured both magically and manually... nobody was found. They did, however, find the potion bag your children were using, and the remnants of a Dark transporting spell..."

Sarah thumped her fist on the table so hard that Draco's teacup fell over, but Hayley spoke first, and she had gone whiter than cheese. "What should we do?"

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "I would suggest staying in a safe place - having Voldemort come after you as well would most certainly not do. Perhaps you should go under a Wizarding Witness Protection Programme..."

"Absolutely _not_," Sarah and Gabriel chorused. They looked at each other, and Gabriel went on.

"It's bad enough that our children are missing, Professor," Gabriel said, not knowing what else to call Dumbledore. "But what if they are just lost, or get transported back? They need to know where we are, and _who_ we are."

Seamus nodded agreement, and he rubbed his hands along his wife's shoulders to try and get her tense muscles to relax.

Chenelle shook her head. "He has a point," she put in sensibly. "It won't do for Tom Riddle to come back and massacre us all."

Robert took a sip of his tea. "Why don't we all stay at Hogwarts?" he inquired. "There's no safer spot than that. Even if the raining episode happened there." He still seemed incensed that Tom Riddle had put one past him, and Hannah patted his arm.

"You did all you could," she said in a very strained voice, although she was whiter than the moon.

Sarah was rigid with anger; she gripped her teacup with such force that the handle broke off.

"Hogwarts it is, then," Gabriel said coolly.

# # #

Feeling like some ogre had beaten her with hammers, Helen staggered to a sitting position and felt around her warily. A loud, resounding noise echoed around wherever she was, frightening her. She reached around, and decided that she was sitting in a cupped enclosure that was well padded, but not quite like a bed. Feeling over, she felt Susan, lying in a heap at her feet. Helen sharply prodded her friend in the elbow.

The prodding jarred Susan grudgingly into wakefulness. "What?" she moaned, trying to curl up back into sleep.

"Get up, Susan!" Helen hissed. "Tell me what you see."

Susan blearily opened one eye a crack, and then was immediately wide-awake, looking around her with wide eyes.

They were sitting in what looked like an overlarge bird's nest, with the outside woven out of sticks, and the inside padded with what looked like garments of clothing and snippets of cloth. There were several hundred nests exactly like this around them, stationed on craggy gray niches of rock. The surroundings that the nests were in were the biggest cave Susan had ever lain eyes on. There was a very large opening about three hundred feet to the right of them, and the other end of the cave spanned as far as the eye could see, but was very well lit with bonfires every fifty feet. 

Susan relayed this all to Helen, who frowned thoughtfully. "It's not an evil place," she said finally. "I don't sense evilness here."

The snapping of a twig betrayed the fact that there was something else in the nest with them. The girls' hair stood on end, and they both turned around. Susan couldn't muffle a horrified gasp when she saw what was in the nest with them.

It was what _appeared_ to be a human, but it wasn't. It was unclothed, but this was unnecessary, because thick black fur covered its legs like pants, the exact shade of the black hair that lay matted on top of the thing's head. The eyes were bright silver, like liquid crystal, and it had the appearance of a Caucasian human, with a few differences.

Instead of finger and toenails, it had long claws that protruded from its hands and feet that were about three inches long. But the most surprising of all this was that stationed on its back, neatly folded in creases in its flesh, were _large black dragon wings_.

Susan gasped for breath faintly, and Helen wrinkled her nose. Her delicate nose could pick out the smells of the thing - mountain air, water, and the fleshy smell of animal. 

The thing chirruped curiously, and took a step closer, and Susan and Helen gaped up at it, unsure of it's motives. 

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?" Susan peeped, looking up at the creature with eyes wider than saucers.

Helen pointed her herself. "Helen," she said. She pointed to Susan. "Susan."

"Hail-un," the creature said with some difficulty, looking at Helen. "Soo-zun," he went on, pointing at the black haired girl. Finally, the creature - Susan had decided it was a he - pointed to himself. "Yizeer."

"Yizeer," the two girls repeated dutifully. The winged human - Yizeer? - smiled delightedly, and dropped a parcel of greens before the girls. He clicked something incoherent to Helen and Susan before flapping his great wings once and gliding over to another nest.

"Maybe its food?" Susan asked, drawing Helen away from staring after Yizeer. She was plucking at the greens, and wrinkling her nose. Helen grabbed a part and took a sniff.

"Phew. It smells like leeks."

"Maybe we shouldn't eat them..." Susan trailed off as her stomach rumbled vigorously. Helen giggled.

"Tell your stomach that."

"Okay, okay."

There were indeed leeks in the greenery, along with alfalfa sprouts, a handful of sesame seeds flavored with honey, and even crab apples, all carefully washed.

"Sour!" Helen exclaimed after biting into an apple.

"Sour for a sourpuss," Susan commented dryly. Helen gave her a shove.

"Quiet. I wish I knew what these winged people are called," she said thoughtfully, chewing on a handful of alfalfa.

# # #

"Luftwings," the page Gerald knew as Jordan answered promptly. Master Scotia nodded.

"Yes, the correct term for the winged human is the Luftwing," he explained, pointing towards the chart. There are two types of Luftwing - carnivorous and herbivore. Does anybody know where these beasts live? Balfour?"

Lenored of Balfour stood up. "Mountian ranges, Sir. They are most populated in the mountain range Opus, but herbivore species live on Mount Rinonaut."

"Correct. As we move on..." Gerald turned him out, looking at his hands.

Ever since people had been referring to him as this Marquell of Edgewood, he had been doubting his identity. Maybe he just imagined himself as Gerald, and he really was Marq. Or maybe this was all a dream. It was too confusing. But did hallucinations prompt such real-looking memories? It was so vivid. His sister, his parents, his friends... he shook his head. No need to pour over things he couldn't solve.

"All right," Master Scotia said, putting away his thick volumes on creatures and pulling out a thinner edition. "It's Satur's day, and it's time for your favorite thing."

All of the boys sat up a little straighter. On Satur's day, Master Scotia always gave them riddles to figure out, and the one who got it normally got some sort of token, like a sweet. The Master flipped through the yellowed pages, until he settled on one.

"Ah, here we go:

_Forward I'm heavy,_

Backward I'm not."

If they were waiting for more, it was not forthcoming. That was it? Gerald thought. He was no good at riddles. This was more Grace's sort of thing than his... who was Grace? he asked himself, clenching his fists. He was having all of these confusing flashbacks, and he didn't appreciate it!

There was much muttering and writing on paper as the boys tried to figure this out. They were almost to the point of giving up, when a voice drawled from the doorway.

"You all aren't _that_ thick are you?" Gerald/Marq looked up, as well as the rest of the class.

In the doorway stood a young maiden, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. She had long, blonde locks that were gracefully furled into swirls and pinned against her head. Crystal blue eyes glinted against a very tan-looking face for a lady, and she was clothed in a light green frock, looking irritated.

"Lady... Greenspring, was it?" Master Scotia asked, bowing slightly. "You know the answer?"

"It's ton," Lady Greenspring said. "Forward, a ton is heavy, and if you read it backwards, it spells not."

"Very good!" Master Scotia said approvingly, nodding.

Gerald looked at Lady Greenspring very hard. Something about her was familiar, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it...

"Grace!" he cried out, before he could stop himself. The entire class turned to look at him, including Lady Greenspring and Master Scotia.

"Marquell!" Master Scotia said sharply, "where are your manners?"

"Gerald?" asked Lady Greenspring/Grace. "Is that really you?"

There was an awkward silence in the room. "Ah," Master Scotia said quietly. "I presume you were childhood friends? Are those nicknames?"

"_No_," Grace said. "We're twins. Can't you see the resemblance?" 

"You look very similar," Master Scotia said stiffly.

"Have you seen Robert?" Gerald asked, feeling certain of his identity now for the first time in about a week. "Or Helen? What about Susan?"

Grace shook her head. "No."

Master Scotia had gone slightly pink with frustration. "Lady Greenspring, I am _trying_ to conduct a class here, if you please!"

Grace looked at her brother. "Later," was all she said, before walking out. Almost after she crossed the threshold, the bell rang for lunch, and the pages rushed out, whispering that Marq still wasn't right in the head after his fall.

# # #

Rob (or 'Eddy') had changed into nicer clothes, consisting of a white shirt, and a black tunic and hose. His black leather shoes were about two sizes too big, but there was nothing he could do about that, so he just laced them as tightly as he could and went to find Smith, and his girlfriend, Costelletta, or Costy for short.

"Now," Smith said, straightening his tunic, "you've been assigned to wait on the lesser nobles at the lower table, Eddy. Lucky. I have to cater to the ladies-in-waiting." He made a face.

"Hey," Costy said, buttoning her blouse, "it could be worse. You could be waiting on the royalty."

"That's the squire's job," another servant named Wesley reminded him. "Tie up your shirt, Edgar."

Rob obeyed. 

"Now, don't be worried, lil' buddy," Smith said, tying his boot. "It's not hard. Just don't make conversation with the nobles at all cost, and cater to their beck and call."

Rob scowled. "Yessir."

Smith let out a throaty roar of a laugh and shook his head. "Go get em', Eddy."

Rob sighed and went to go get the fingerbowl for the ladies. He frowned, rubbing his eyes. Since his glasses had been cracked and did little good, his vision was always blurry, and it was rather a pain.

He walked through the door and into an ocean of color. The palace uniforms for the servants were dull and faded into the background against the brilliance of the dress of the nobles, the bright green-and-silver of the squires and pages, and the decorations of the room added to the splendor.

_Too bad I can't enjoy it_, Rob thought bitterly, straightening his tunic with one hand and walking to the table he was to wait on. 

It was not a very large table, and quite below the salt, and for all that, Rob was relieved. Even though he didn't know who the king was, he didn't know what he was doing, and didn't want to look like an idiot in front of him. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a squire dip a graceful bow, and offer the fingerbowl to a lady, dip another bow to the man next to her, and murmur something, and then offered the fingerbowl to the next lady. Rob took a deep breath, and approached the table.

"If my lady pleases?" he said gracefully, dipping a low bow, and offering the fingerbowl. The lady smiled at Rob, rinsing and drying her hands. "Thank you," she said.

Rob bowed slightly, and then turned to the man next to her, and bowed slightly. "Sir," he said, before offering the bowl to the next lady.

Unlike the last lady, she stared at the waterbowl, as if unsure what to do with it. Rob looked up. "My lady?" he asked, and then nearly dropped the fingerbowl.

It was Grace.

"Grace?" he whispered under his breath. Grace looked up, stared at him for a long moment, and then drew a breath.

"Rob? I-I didn't recognize you without your glasses..."

"I know, I know," he said hurriedly. "Please wash your hands - people are starting to stare!"

The man sitting next to Grace frowned, his face furrowing like scarred oak. "Do you find something interesting in Lady Greenspring, Boy?"

Grace plunked her hands in the waterbowl, slopping water all over Rob. "Tyrone, dearest" - Rob noted with interest that Grace's face contorted when she called Sir Tyrone 'dearest' - "it was nothing."

The other court ladies looked at Grace, noting her dripping hands. Rob made a face, as his tunic now had a wet spot on the front of it. "Sorry, Rob," she whispered sheepishly, drying her hands on an inner petticoat.

"If I may be excused?" Rob asked, walking away quickly.

He met another servant who was working with the food, who Rob knew was named Syril. "Is there a problem, Edgar?" he asked.

Rob sighed. "One of the ladies got water all over me," he said, frowning. Syril sighed.

"Here," he said, taking off his tunic. "We'll switch... I don't plan on working with the nobles."

Rob thanked him, and switched, refilling his bowl, and walked back out. When he passed by Grace, she tucked his napkin in his pocket discreetly.

After offering the fingerbowl to the rest of the ladies, Rob checked the napkin, which looked like it had words written in it in oil.

__

Gerald's here, too.

Rob's heart skipped a beat - that was good. But what about Susan and Helen? They weren't here, or were they? It was a question for him to ponder on a spare moment. But he certainly didn't have a spare on right now, he thought as he accepted a platter of pasta from one of the pages. 

# # #

Yizeer had let Susan and Helen out of his nest a while back, and they had spent the day poking about, with many of the winged humans following them. The little ones seemed as intrigued with the humans and Susan and Helen were of them. One of them was even brash enough to leap on Helen's back, and she had found that they were very light - they probably had hollow bones.

Helen and Susan had been talking to one another - like what had happened, where they were, and such. Then, there was a loud, shrill call, and all of the creatures dropped whatever they had been doing and stood attention by their nests. Yizeer called them back to his nest, where they stood.

"What the blazes...?" asked Susan, but Yizeer elbowed her in the side, and Susan fell quiet.

After a few moments, there was the sound of pattering feet and swooping wings. Two creatures flew by, each with a horn in its mouth, blowing an odd tune.

Not far behind, a squad of more creatures trooped past, carrying spears made of mountain rock. Then, after this procession, a singular creature flew by.

Unlike the rest of the winged humans, who had black fur covering their bottom halves, and black wings, this one had gold fur, and shimmering copper wings. He was very muscular, and had snapping green eyes, without a fleck of hazel. Around his neck, something was fastened, which looked like a long, white cloth of some sorts, with color embroidered into it. 

"This must be the king..." Helen whispered to Susan, who nodded.

The king stopped before Yizeer and the girls, Yizeer bowed very deeply, and the girls did the same. Reaching out with one clawed finger, the king curiously touched Susan's bushy black hair. He cheeped an inquiry to Yizeer.

"Hail-un," Yizeer said, pointing to Helen. "Soo-zun," he went on, nodding to Susan.

Yizeer motioned to the king. "Izmagusty," he said, straining to make the words right.

"Izmagusty?" asked Susan.

"I think Yizeer's trying to say 'His Majesty'," Helen responded. They both bowed again. Yizeer looked very pleased.

The king crinkled up his eyes in amusement, and then nodded to Yizeer. Yizeer smiled even more broadly than before. The king stood back and raised his arms, looking to the sky, and shouted something. He said it again. And again. He repeated it until the entire cavern was echoing with the noise. 

There was a wrenching feeling on Susan's back. It started slowly, but then it grew more and more painful until it was impossible to ignore, and she fell down onto the ground. The king repeated the chant one more time, and this time, it was perfectly understandable to Susan.

__

Luftwing, children of the air,

bring clansmen in to see and share.

Helen felt her back slowly, and felt something protruding out of it. "Susan," she croaked, "Susan, what's on my back?"

Susan staggered to a sitting position, and looked. And screamed.

"What? What?" Helen asked, genuinely frightened.

"_Wings!_" Susan cried. "_You've got-we've got wings!_"

This was too much at the moment. Helen fainted.

Yizeer smiled kindly at Susan. _"Welcome to the clan,"_ he said. Susan took a great breath and held it, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming, and could stay awake. Looking down, she saw that the rest of her was still normal - no hair on her legs, or no more than normal, and her fingernails were still right where they were.

_"My God,"_ she chirruped, and then fainted away, like Helen.

# # #

Sarah wrapped her cloak tighter around her and looked out the window, over the Hogwarts grounds. Everything was beautiful in twilight - everything was bathed in rich grays and blues, it was dreamlike. But something kept gnawing annoyedly at her insides, and she sighed, wondering where Susan was.

There was a knock at her door. "Whaddya want?" she grunted.

"Sarah?" it was Gabriel.

"That's my name, isn't it?" 

"It bites. Ouch."

Sarah snapped her teeth together. Gabriel grinned, and walked over. "You know, I don't think that staring out your window is going to make things better."

"It's not making them any worse," Sarah retorted.

The pair were silent for a moment, while the Hufflepuffs filed out onto the Quiddich field, and started to practice. Sarah snorted as a Chaser dropped the ball.

"Pitiful," she said scornfully. "Blood-sucking pitiful. The Hufflepuffs never could play Quidditch to save their lives."

"They won one year," Gabriel reminded her. Sarah stuck her nose in the air.

"The other teams must have been out with mononucleosis."

"You might as well give it up, Gabriel," Robert said, standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed. "The way our Sarah Slytherin shows anxiety is by getting testier."

Sarah glared at him while Gabriel chortled. Robert settled himself in Sarah's bed. Hayley came in last, carrying Christopher.

"And Hufflepuff is good for other things other than Quidditch," Hayley said dryly.

Sarah rolled her eyes and commenced looking at the Quidditch game again.

All was quiet.

# # #

"You know, I rather enjoy the acts of the living," Salazar said smoothly, twisting his mustache. "It's rather like a drama show."

"Salazar Slytherin," Rowena said dryly. "Master of the Dark Arts, hater of all muggle-born, drama expert."

There was squawking from aways down. Helga came in, looking distraught.

"He's trying to play his bugle again."

"Gods save us," Salazar said, looking at the ceiling. Godric came in, sporting a bugle between his lips and making a lot of what sounded like unglorified noise.

"Maybe music lessons are in order," Rowena said in her cynic voice.

"Maybe a miracle is in order," Salazar spat. Helga giggled.

"You three just have no appreciation for good music," Godric said haughtily, blowing away, making the instrument sound like it was being strangled and dying a slow and painful death.

"Make it stop!" Salazar cried, clapping his hands over his ears. Godric sniffed like a king would, and blew the noise into Salazar's ear.

"Enough!" Helga ordered forcefully, wagging her finger. "We should send the dreams now."

Salazar made a face. "But I _like_ seeing everybody so confused."

Rowena swatted the top of his head. "That's why we don't let you make major decisions. Yes, Helga, we'll do it now."

# # #

That night, Gerald did something he had never done before - he had a bout of sleepwalking. In fact, he did a little more than walk.

He purposefully rose out of bed, walked to his desk, took out ink and paper, and began to write.

There was a voice in his head, melodically singing in his ear a verse, which he dutifully copied down in his sleep.

__

It's where Gryffindor and Slytherin are the same,

Seek not in head, but in brain,

Second, look in marrow, not in bone,

Not in a gelding, but in a roan.

Third, apple, oak, rowan,

Find not in deer, but in fawn.

Fourth, not in the shell, but in the nut,

See not in open, but in shut.

Look in places the meek would not try,

See where winged humans fly,

Converse with Luftwing king,

Seek beyond golden wing...

Gerald would awake the next morning on his desk, wondering how the verse got there. He got up and preformed his chores as normal, but he didn't know that Grace and Rob had had the exact same dream...

# # #

Up in the sky, black clouds started to gather, and a pouring rain drenched Castle Sapius.

# # #

A/N: O_o That was weird, but I hoped you liked. Please review! ::whines:: I only got three reviews last time. ::finished whining:: Well, anyway. I'll get the next part out as soon as I write it! ::waves:: Bye for now!

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: You know, most of the stuff in this chapter actually belongs to me. That's pretty bad. But the characters and names extracted from the Harry Potter books belong to the great J.K.


	8. Breakups and Breakdowns

Helen and Susan stood to attention as Yizeer attempted to teach them the finer aspects of flying.

_"You have to arch your shoulders, like so,"_ he clucked, tensing his shoulders, _"and you have to make sure the wind is right - or near perfect - and then you jump,"_ he did so_, _and unfurled hiswings, and the thin, fabric-like skin puffed out between the bones of his wings, and he soared around a few times before beating his wings to hover. _"And let the wind catch you. It's not hard, and if you think you can't make it, just glide."_

The two girls nodded - they had mastered gliding last week. "It's not going to be as easy for us," Susan whispered to her friend, "we don't have hollow bones."

Helen scoffed. "You're one to talk! I'm _blind_."

But they imitated what Yizeer did, and leapt off the side of the cliff, ignoring their human instincts that were yelling at them.

The result was disastrous. They were only able to keep aloft for a few wing beats, before having to glide down. Helen lost control of her wings and only a sharp turn kept her from slamming into the mountainside, but she slid along the craggy side and cut up her wings pretty badly. Susan got her wings tangled within each other, and plummeted like a stone for about fifty feet before regaining her rights and pumping up about twenty feet before giving out and grappling onto the sides of the mountain.

A caw of laughter arose from one of the nests when Yizeer assisted them back into the cave.

_"The ground-pounders!"_ a chesty female roared. _"You'll never fly like one of us!"_

Yizeer ran his fingers calmly though his hair. _"I seem to remember you took about three years to get a good hold on your wings, Rvanna."_

The Luftwing called Rvanna reddened at the cheeks and stuck her nose in the air. _"You are foolish, Yizeer. Mark my words, they won't last for three seconds when the King's Call arises."_ With that, she pumped her wings twice and was off into the bowels of the cave.

Yizeer turned to the two crestfallen girls. _"It really wasn't that bad for the first time,"_ he assured them, helping them up. _"We'll have to see Emena about that,"_ he said, looking at Helen's wing. 

It took only about three minutes of legwork to make it over to Emena's nest. Emena was an elderly Luftwing, and therefore granted use of a lower nest, because her wings didn't work so well. Emena was also a possessor of what the Luftwing called Talent, which was basically magic in Semvara form.

_"Hello dearies,"_ the elderly Luftwing greeted the three cheerily, _"what's new with you?"_

Yizeer pointed to Helen's wings. _"The mountain ate her wings," _he explained.

__

"Poor dear," Emena crooned. _"Sit over here, Helen, and I'll make it better. Susan, sweet wing, there's leekbread under the tunic."_

Susan's eyes lit up and she went to look under the tunic for the round, greenish bread. Ever since she had been let into the Luftwing clan, and given wings, she found she had gotten cravings for strange food, like grass stew, and even hemlock - a plant that would kill most normal humans - tasted good to a Luftwing stomach. She had lost all interest in meat at all - the mere thought of it made her want to cast up her last meal.

__

"Yizeer," Helen asked, wincing as the old lady applied a salvent to her damaged wings, _"what's this 'King's Call' Rvanna was blathering about?"_

Yizeer sighed and tore off a chunk of leekbread. _"When you become of age of winging, the King calls you out for a flying compition. The winners get the choice of nesting, mates, first peckings at harvest, and so on."_

Susan looked at him. _"What do you mean, a 'flying compition'?"_

Emena sighed asher palms glittered with silvery magic. _"It's the polite way of saying a slaughter in the air - most in the King's Call are killed either by other Luftwings or exhausted wings."_

_"We don't have to do The Call, do we?"_ asked Helen, jarring her wings. _"We're new, we're human, and we don't have claws."_

Susan choked on the bread she was eating when she caught the unhappy glance that took part between Yizeer and Emena. _"You're kidding!"_ she trilled alarmedly, leaping up, throwing green crumbs all over the nest. _"You've got to be bloody well joking!"_

_"Keep your wings together,"_ Yizeer chided, rubbing the top of his head, _"I'll put an appeal in for you - dunno what he'll say, however."_

Helen thought with a sinking feeling that she had a pretty good idea what he was going to say - and she didn't like it at all.

# # #

Grace sat down in her chair with a sigh. It had taken about an hour to get rid of her servant, and Tyrone. They were the rock - Grace was the ocean. She had to whittle and whine and order until they crumbled into the sea. She wasn't sure if she could keep this charade up much longer without going biserk.

There was a knock at the door. "What?" Grace snapped, out of the ability to be polite. The reply was muffled.

"Open the door, Grace," the familiar voice ordered.

Grace was relieved - she liked hearing her name, as opposed to 'Lydia', or 'Lady Greenspring'. "Coming."

She opened the door, and Rob was standing there, sideways. He was carrying a kettle in his left hand, and his eyes looked a little overbright.

"Needed an excuse to come to the noble's wing," he mumbled, in excuse for the kettle. Grace took it, and Rob edged in, still sideways.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Grace, putting the kettle on her bureau. "And why are you walking like that?"

"None of your business," Rob snapped, and Grace could tell that he was also fresh out of the ability to take abuse from nobles and be polite.

"Robert!" Grace said sternly, storming over, and planting her hands on her hips. "Look at me."

"No."

"I'll scream, and then you'll get in trouble for molesting a noble," she threatened. Rob shoved the chair back and walked over to the pane of the window.

"Do whatever you want. I don't give a damn anymore," he said in a very strangled tone. Grace furrowed her brows. Something was wrong.

She swiftly strode over to him, and before he could stop her, she grabbed his chin and turned his head rather violently. Grace couldn't help but gasp in horror.

The entire right side of his face was one gigantic bruise, in many shades of lively reds, oranges, purples and blues. His eye was swollen shut. "What the hell happened?"

"Horse," he croaked out. "Got caught up in a game of kick-the-can in horses, and I had the honor of being the can."

"My God," she said, unable to form any other thoughts.

Just then the door burst in, and Gerald wobbled in, looking very distraught and exhausted. "Better hurry," he muttered. "Tired. Need sleep... get up to run tomorrow..." he collapsed on Grace's down mattress. "Bed good," he yawned into the mattress.

Grace dipped her large, gaudy handkerchief into ice water, and gave it to Rob, who pressed it up against his bruise. "We've got to get out of here," she murmured.

"No joke," Rob snapped.

He put his head in his hands, and looked about ready to wail, but instead ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

"If we knew where Gryffindor and Slytherin were the same, it'd be _easy_," Gerald sneered into his pillow.

Rob's ears perked up at once. "_What_ did you say?"

"Some whacked-up dream I had," Gerald replied drowsily.

Rob pulled a piece of tattered parchment out of his parchment, and read aloud:

__

It's where Gryffindor and Slytherin are the same,

Seek not in head but in brain,

Second, look in marrow, not in bone,

Not in a gelding, but in a roan.

Third, apple, oak, rowan,

Find not in deer, but in fawn,

Fourth, not in the shell but in the nut,

See not in open, but in shut.

Look in places the meek would not try,

See where winged humans fly,

Converse with Luftwing king,

See beyond golden wing...

Gerald and Grace stared, flabbergasted for a few moments.

"You had that dream _too_?" they asked.

# # #

Hermione Granger sighed, as she scooped her baby girl up into her lap. Erika Potter burbled a giggle and shook her tiny fist in the air. Hermione then turned her attention back to her guests, who were seated at the kitchen table of her room, sipping tea. "Where's Sarah?"

Gabriel made a face and reached for the sugar. "Off in la-la land with her fiancée."

Harry put the napkin he was using to play peek-a-boo with Erika down. "Fiancée? When did this happen?"

"Not too long ago," Seamus answered, stretching. "Maybe about two weeks?"

"I see. Who's the lucky fellow?" Hermione asked dryly. She had nothing in common with the raven-haired, short-tempered female - but she had nothing against her either.

Hayley put Christopher on the ground with Erika, where they preceded to play a game of 'beat the spoon on the ground'. "Ask yourself if you _really_ want to know," she replied, just as dry.

Harry wrestled a spoon away from Erika. "Who?"

"Draco Malfoy," Robert said, pushing his teacup away from him.

"You're _joking_."

"Dead serious."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Well, I couldn't give you fair input on _that_, since I'm already quite biased and I haven't uttered a word to him in about twenty years," Hermione said, sounding retained.

"In other words, you hate him and think that Sarah should get as far away from the premises as possible," put Chenelle primly, throwing tact out the window.

Harry nodded. "Exactly. The Malfoys are involved in the Dark Arts, and I don't think-"

"To hell with what you think," Gabriel sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. "Like Sarah would listen. She has to find it out for herself - us telling her so would only get her mad."

"Is there much that _doesn't _make our Sarah mad?" Hayley asked, rubbing her head across her forehead. "Gods, I wish Helen was back," she added, changing the subject.

"Damn Voldemort," Robert whispered, in a voice that sounded more sour than angry. "I thought we had killed him last time."

Harry shook his head. "In Storybook dimensions, the maker is immortal in the dimension - as long as the dimension itself is still going."

Chenelle drew a sharp breath. "_I _get it now."

"You get what?"

"Tom took the children into the realm so nobody would try and destroy it - doing so would kill him, but take them along with it. He's probably going to do what he always tries to do - bide his time, create more power from the energy of the universe, and reenter this dimension. The normal bad guy thing," she finished, sounding tired.

The only sound in the room was little Erika sucking on her thumb.

"Makes sense," Hermione said.

# # #

Yizeer glided back into his nest, where the girls eagerly awaited him. The male Luftwing folded his wings and settled back into the corner of the stick-and-mud-and-cloth structure, relaxing. There was not sign of his mood, and finally, Susan couldn't stand it anymore.

__

"Well?" she asked, fidgeting with the cuff of a very tattered pair of breeches.

_"There is to be no appeal,"_ Yizeer said tonelessly. _"He said that it was my fault for inducting you into the clan at the time I did - I should have waited."_

Helen curled her lip under and nearly cried. _"But it isn't _fair_! How are we going to survive in the air against things with toenails, claws, fangs and stealth, when we can hardly _fly_?"_

Yizeer sighed and shook his head. _"Although I knew it was foolish to try for an appeal - it is custom. No Luftwing of age has missed The Calling since the First Ones graced the world with wings."_

_"What do we do?"_ Susan moaned in despair. _"We're going to die up there!"_

Yizeer shook his head. _"No, you're not. I survived The Call - so will you."_

Susan had to bite her lip as hard as she could to keep from retorting that Yizeer had been a properly reared Luftwing, but she kept it to herself.

Yizeer continued. _"Don't attack at first - glide around, and let the others take each other out before you bother with attack. And when you _do_ attack, don't bother with defense. You'll only wear yourself out playing hide-and-seek, or attempting to block. Attack, attack, attack and get it over with. And you may not have Luftwing reflexes and skills - but you're still half-human. There _has _to be _some_ advantage to being frozen on the ground for most your life."_

Helen frowned. _"I don't get what use those can be in the air. We can't fly as well, and we're heavier..."_

"We're heavier!" Susan said, grinning. _"There has to be something we can do with that."_

Yizeer gave her a toothy grin. _"Now you're talking."_

# # # 

Sarah walked around Malfoy manner, glancing coolly at the impressive architecture. She would be living here soon, as Draco saw no reason to leave his inheritance behind in search of a more - homey place. She sighed, running her palm along the woodwork of snarling gargoyles. She would have to talk Draco into buying a summer place - on the water, perhaps.

The next room was the library, Sarah's favorite place in the manor so far. Unlike the rest of the rooms which had been furnished in such strict Victorian it was almost uncomfortable, this one was in a more casual setting - with shades of warm gold, and rich green accents, so lush she could almost smell the thought of grass. She ran her finger along a hunter green throw pillow and smiled dreamily.

Like most soon-to-be newlyweds, she often lost track of the world in her lust over her soon-to-be husband. Her friends knew of it, and treated it with a silk glove edged in scorn, because they didn't approve of Sarah's choice of soulmate, and she knew it. She didn't care. What really mattered, when you were happy?

_Not completely happy, _a tiny voice in her whispered. _Susan? Remember her?_ the voice scoffed, the down-to-earth part of her. Sarah's other self fumed. Of course she remembered her daughter. But doting over her absence wasn't bringing her back.

_You disgust me,_ the down-to-earth voice said, but then it said no more. For this, Sarah was glad. She didn't need voices nagging at her at the moment. 

"How did I know you'd be in here?" a voice drawled from the doorway. Sarah, scared nearly out of her skin, jumped and whirled around, to find Draco leaning over the threshold.

"It might occur to you that _I _like to broaden my horizons with books," Sarah playfully sneered, beating around the fact that she had really come into the library because it was the only place in the manor she felt comfortable.

"You haven't changed a bit," Draco replied, picking up a book off the table and snapping it closed, spraying dust all over the place, and coughing a fit.

"Neither have you," Sarah retorted in monotones, watching Draco sneeze into a handkerchief.

"I sometimes wonder why I asked you to marry me."

"I sometimes wonder why I said yes."

Draco folded his arms. "I sometimes wonder why we argue like this."

"I do too," Sarah replied, sticking her tongue out at him. Draco rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the table and picked up a romance novel.

"And I wonder why, Thor, I resisted your touch into my.... Really, Sarah, I don't know what you see in stuff like this."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "It's not mine."

"Right..."

"It's not," she insisted, "check the cover."

Sure enough, in the upper right-hand corner in gold ink were written the words 'Narcissa Malfoy' in graceful letters.

"I stand corrected," Draco said dryly, dropping the thick, pink novel onto the table. "Perhaps we should make like a romance novel, however?"

Sarah's heart hammered hard in her chest, so hard that she thought that any minute now her ribs would be crushed out by the pressure. "In the _library_? I don't think..." she was interrupted by Draco's mouth closing over her own, leaving no room for more talk.

_Ah, what the hell?_ she thought resignedly, _everybody needs a little passion sometimes, even if it is surrounded by books._

She felt up his arms, and was quite surprised and pleased to find that there was more than skin and bones there. But what surprised her more than anything was a little rough spot on Draco's right arm. When her palm pressed up against it, the cloth rasped against the skin. It was like a space of bark that had been embedded into his flesh. Her brows furrowed.

"Mmmnmemm," she said, pulling away.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked, stepping back. Sarah stepped after him.

"What's that rough spot on your arm?" she inquired, pointing to his right limb. "It feels like you had been burnt."

Draco went milky-white, and then bright red. "That," he said tersely, "is none of your business."

Sarah's eyebrows shot up to their limits. "Oh, it isn't?" she asked tartly. "Listen here, Mr. Big Shot, you had better get the notion through your head that whatever is your business is _mine_ also, once we're married - I talked with your mother."

"So?" Draco asked defensively, rubbing his hand over his right arm. 

"_So_," Sarah plowed on, "there isn't going to be any of this 'You Can't Go There', or 'You Can't Say This' with me. I don't know _what_ was up with Nari, but I'm not afraid of you _or _your illustrious father."

"Now see here," Draco snapped, still rubbing at his right arm. "Just because you're going to get married to me doesn't mean you can turn the household on its head..." He trailed off when he saw Sarah's eyes go cold like gunmetal.

"All I want to see is what's on your arm!" she hissed dangerously. "This has nothing to do with me and my rights!"

"Your _rights_?" Draco asked with a mirthless laugh. 

"Rights to know what is going on in the household!" Sarah screeched. "I'm going to be part of it, after all, and _you_ of all people should know that I am not going to defer to you!"

Draco said nothing - just clenched his teeth together so hard he was surprised they didn't crumble to dust in his mouth. He knew as well as the next person that Sarah wasn't one to defer to anybody. She was as hardheaded as well - him.

"Now, what is wrong with your arm," Sarah asked, voice slightly gentler than it had been before - they were arguing for nothing.

"It's a burn," Draco replied shortly. "I got it from a spell that backfired."

Sarah was about to reply with a 'Now, was that so hard?', but a nasty little voice said to her; _Why is he so overprotective of a burn? If it were nothing, wouldn't he have told you?_ She licked dry lips.

"I'm being lied to," she said flatly.

Draco opened his mouth again - probably to tell her mind her own business - but then shut it, knowing how Sarah would take such a remark.

Sarah looked down at the floor. "You know, trust is important in a marriage, as well as passion," she said scathingly. "It seems the trust factor is lost in this one."

Draco swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bouncing to the bottom of his neck and back again. He reached for the bottom of his sleeve and slowly started to pull it up. It looked like hard work. Finally, it reached his shoulder. Sarah stared at what was there.

"The Dark Mark," she said, in a very tremulous voice that was very flat. "You're a Death Eater?"

Draco nodded and rolled down his sleeve. "Ever since I was eighteen - three days after Hogwarts."

Sarah blinked once, twice, three times. Of course, she had known that the Malfoys had been involved in the Dark Arts - she had seen Draco demonstrate them in Defense Against the Dark Arts class - but it didn't seem like he had actually used them for evil purposes. Had he used the Unforgivable Curses? Had he killed people? Why did she get engaged to him in the first place? She had forgotten. Then the killer thought entered her mind - 

_He's in league with the person that abducted Susan._

The thought echoed, and everything seemed in slow motion. Sarah shook her head, in a daze, and looked up at Draco.

"How _could _you?!" she half-screeched, half-whispered brokenly. It was all a waste. Now that she knew.

"Why do you think I didn't want - " Draco began, but Sarah cut him off.

"Why didn't you _tell _me? Don't you think I would have found out eventually?" Sarah shouted.

"Sarah, don't yell!" Draco cried, raising his voice.

"What?! _I'm_ not ashamed of what I'm saying - are you?!"

There was silence, a staredown, like the kind that occurred between little children on the playgrounds. Who would give in and blink first? Seconds ticked by, before Sarah broke the gaze and looked down at the ground, shaking her head.

"It wouldn't have worked anyway, would it?" she asked, sighing.

"What do you mean?" asked Draco, alarmed.

"This," she motioned to the library around her. "Us. We're too alike. We're stubborn, rude at times - hardcore Slytherins. It wouldn't have worked. Besides, I wouldn't have gotten on with high-class living; I'm not the type. I don't do with butlers - you don't do fast food or anything muggle, for that matter." She shook her head again. "You need somebody from your class that knows how to run a manor. Stuff that I never learned."

Draco swallowed, suddenly losing the ability to speak or do anything.

"Still," Sarah said throatily, "it would have been interesting."

She left the library, and what she had meant didn't totally sink into Draco until there was a plinking sound, and something small and gold started rolling along one of the grooves in the hardwood floor. It stopped at Draco's feet, and he picked it up and examined it.

It was the engagement ring.

# # #

"What do Gryffindor and Slytherin have in common?" asked Gerald, looking over the parchment and handing it back to Rob.

"Hate?" suggested Rob, folding the parchment closed, and then opening it nervously.

"They're both men," Grace interjected. "The founders were, that is."

Gerald shook his head. "They were, but I don't think that's it - look at the next line."

"_Seek not in head but in brain_," Rob read. "That doesn't make any sense. What's not in a head but's in a brain?"

"It's also where Gryffindor and Slytherin are the same," Grace mused. "They both are connected somehow."

"You're the riddle woman," Gerald snapped. He had been up since the crack of dawn doing hard endurance training, and he was exhausted.

"Shut up!" Grace sneered. "I'm not the goddess of riddles, if that's what you're trying to say."

"Okay, guys," Rob interjected, rewetting the handkerchief and pressing it to his injured cheek. "Maybe we're going about the riddle the wrong way."

"What do you mean?" asked Gerald.

"Well, maybe it doesn't mean an actual head or brain."

"_What?_"

"_Apple, oak, rowan_," Rob muttered under his breath. "_Look in marrow, not in bone_... yes, it has to be..."

"Be _what_?" Grace asked, aggravated and sore.

"It's not an _object_ riddle," Rob explained, wincing as he gently put his fingertips over the bruise. "It's a _letter _riddle."

Gerald pursed his lips. "That made as much sense as the time you explained the wangdiddler's role in the negitive hoochy-koochy theorem."

Rob snapped his brows together. "That was the radical's role in the quadratic equation, but nevermind. Anyway, you're looking in the _wrong _part of the riddle. Look at the _word_ Gryffindor, and the _word_ Slytherin. What letters are the same?"

Grace's jaw dropped nearly to the floor. "By George, I think he's got it," she quoted.

"Well, Gryffindor and Slytherin... they both have a y, an i, r, and an n," Gerald said.

"Yirn?" asked Grace with a scowl.

"Now wait a minute," Rob said, smoothing out the parchment. "_Seek not in head, but in brain_. Now, out of y-i-r-n, what of those letters are in brain?"

"Um... r..i and n," Gerald said.

"Okay, now we have Rin. All's we have to do is do the rest... it's easy!" Rob said, getting excited. Grace snorted and pointed to her brother, who was half-dozing.

"We had better take off for the night - I'm sure I can think of some reason to get you back here tomorrow night."

Rob nodded. He didn't particularly want to stop, but his glasses-less eyes were screaming in pain, and he had to smother yawn after yawn as he ambled out the door. Gerald had even more trouble, and he ran into the doorframe on the way back.

Grace giggled, shutting the door behind the two boys, and fell back onto the bed, and gave into sleep before she hit the pillow.

# # #

_"Kneed this,"_ Emena said, slapping a large mound of green leekbread dough before Susan and Helen. _"It will help you get rid of your anxiety - and not to mention I could use the well pounded dough."_

Helen reached into the dough with both hands and squeezed her fingers into fists, feeling the dough squelch out from between her fingers. It felt good, and it did help with her anxiety. The Calling was today, and Susan and Helen were beyond nervous.

_"It isn't _fair_,"_ Susan was protesting, giving the bread a hard punch, making a hole in the dough.

_"As if His Highness gives a mite about what is fair or not,"_ Yizeer snapped.

_"Don't mind Yizeer," _Emena said dryly when Helen gave a startled gesture in her adoptive parent's direction. _"When he is anxious, he gets snappy."_

Yizeer gave Emena a rueful smile, when Rvanna flapped noisily into the nest. _"Making your last meal, earth-walkers?"_ she cackled.

_"Don't you have anything better to do than to disturb Call participants?" _Emena said with gentle impatience.

Rvanna clawed the bottom of the nest, sneering. _"They have no Talent, nor Talon, as the saying says of humans, and they will not last. Yizeer, you are foolish to even think that..."_ she trailed off when Yizeer stood up, spreading his wings to their full extent, making him look bigger than he was before.

_"I have not heard such intolerance from anybody in all my years about their choice of child. Helen and Susan, strange as their names may be, have as just a good a chance as any other Luftwing out there. One more word out of you, and I will call you out to the Pits."_

Rvanna paled, and then drew her fangs up and flapped off.

_"Pits?"_ asked Helen, kneading the dough between her fingers, and feeling the grits squish together

_"Luftwing justice," _Emena explained. _"When you are taken out to the Pits, the one who is in the right usually wins - the other one dies. Rvanna has no cause to insult Yizeer's young, so if he took her to the Pits, she knows that she would lose."_

Susan whistled - there was so much that they didn't know about Luftwing culture that it wasn't funny. She frowned at the dough she was kneading; it was much too grainy. _"What's wrong with this bread?"_ she asked.

_"Quality of everything goes down during Call week,"_ Yizeer said dryly. _"And I suggest you ditch the ground clothes for The Calling - I don't know why you wear them in the first place."_

Helen felt her greasy, soiled, torn clothing and grimaced. She wore her clothes still for two reasons - one, it would be too strange to be walking around with no clothing on, even if the other Luftwings didn't wear any, and two because she was afraid that if she didn't wear them she'd forget that she had a life in another dimension. 

_"Custom,"_ Susan said grimly. _"I'd rather wear them, if it's all the same."_

A loud bell sounded, twenty-five times. _"The number of participants in The Call," _Yizeer whispered. _"There's only twenty-five this year - it's a small Calling."_

Helen swallowed several times, but felt like something big and heavy was stuck in the back of her craw, and she had a nasty feeling that swallowing wasn't going to do it. But she grabbed Susan's hand and followed her in the mass of Luftwings.

The battle arena for The Calling was held in midair, just outside the main entrance in the cave. For the first time, Susan saw dark crimson stains on some of the trees and on the side of the mountain. She swallowed.

The crowd of Luftwings parted, and the King stood there, flickering his golden wings majestically, his white embroidered cape swishing in the background. _"All Call participants, please stand forth."_

Yizeer nudged Helen and Susan forward, and twenty-three other, nervous-looking Luftwings about their age stood before the tall, golden king. He looked them all over with his blue eyes, and spoke.

_"I have Called you here to demonstrate. Demonstrate power, demonstrate flying ability, demonstrate courage and valor. You will slay enemies in this three hour time period, you will meet friends you never knew you had, you will learn every aspect in combat flying to become a true Luftwing."_

Just listening to him made Helen's palms sweat. No wonder this flying man was King. No matter the color of his fur and wings - he was a motivational speaker. All of a sudden, she was proud to be a Luftwing, proud to be part of this clan - and willing to protect her position, and she would slay whomever got in her way! It was an odd feeling.

_"You will make you position in the clan today... you will fight clan, make clan, live clan, bleed clan, be clan! I Call, I have Called, I will Call again! Behold, the future, present, and past of Luftwing history! Hear me!"_ he roared.

_"Hear, we hear as one, we breathe as one, we fight as one! We hear!"_

This was the signal for the ones that were Called to start. With a running leap, Susan embraced the air, and fell, before unfurling her black wings and pumping. Flying was easy, it was fun, flying was Susan. It ran in her blood. Heeding Yizeer's advice, she decided to play it patient and wait for the others to take each other out. She was relieved to find that most of the other Luftwings weren't any better than Helen or Susan in flying - some might have been worse. In about ten minutes, three Luftwing children were already down. It seemed that this was going to be more of a test of endurance than anything.

Helen was playing the same way as Susan, gliding whenever possible to conserve energy. She didn't need sight to fly - Luftwing instincts were enough. Her hearing and taste were twenty times more efficient that before, and she could tell how close she was to the mountain or another Luftwing just by listening and tasting the air. It almost put being a mere human to shame.

After about a half-hour, there were a total of about ten Luftwings in the air that hadn't given up because of injuries, fatigue, or no desire to go on. One of the Luftwings came after Helen, grabbing her by the robe, and slamming her against the rock.

White flashed across her brain, and she felt wetness coursing down her hair - she had stuck her head on a stone and crimson blood dripped into her ear. Four tracks of numbness streaked across her left thigh - the Luftwing had scratched her, and had her pinned against the rock.

With a roar, Helen released one of her hands and knocked the boy Luftwing across the face. It didn't release her, but it made him stall. Flailing around, she landed about three more good blows before the boy managed to get his hands around her throat.

Her mind was going gray when something hard struck her had - a stone had come loose from the mountain, and she crashed it against the boy's temple. He gave a whimper, and Helen felt him fall away. Quickly, before the boy could come back, or somebody came to attack her, Helen flew off.

Meanwhile, Susan was having a cat-and-mouse game with a flaxen haired female that was better at flying than the others, and wouldn't give Susan up.

_"Why do you run?"_ the girl sneered, lazily pumping her wings and easily keeping up.

Susan didn't choose to answer that - instead she opted to dive sharply, nearly ramming her head into the side of the mountain. She did a quick twist and the gasps and rowdy cheers of the crowd above were enough to tell her that she had barely missed a messy death or serious injury. Her heart hammered in her throat, but there was no time to lick would-have-been wounds at the moment, for the girl had caught up with her and had her foot.

_"Let go!"_ Susan cried, twisting around frantically and attempting to wrench her foot away from the girl's tight grip.

Instead of letting go, the Luftwing grasped her ankle harder, drawing blood. Susan swung her free foot around and smashed the girl in the mouth with her instep. Blood fell from the Luftwing's mouth in torrents, splattering over her chest and splashing over the sharp rocks below.

__

"Foolish!" the girl Luftwing raged, baring her teeth, which looked especially frightening with blood seeping from the cracks. _"Do you know who I am?"_

Susan, nursing her foot, decided between the option of fight or flight, and replied. _"I don't care who you are, nor do I want to know."_

_"I am Oanea, daughter of Rvanna and Wazern, high nest five! You will pay for that."_

"Figures," Susan retorted coolly, crossing her arms. _"I should have known that any child of Rvanna would be a pain."_

That was not a wise thing to say, nor particulary kind, but Susan didn't care. Oanea's black eyes grew cold, and then she threw herself onto Susan with a roar, furiously slashing in with her claws.

Susan blocked and defended herself as well as she could, but she really wasn't a match for Oenea's flight skills and claws. After being cut across the face about five times, Susan managed to lunge forward and grab a large handful of Oenea's hair, and she pulled unmercifully. This distracted the Luftwing enough to make her stop attacking Susan so vigorously. To the left of her, a handsome Luftwing male gave a disheartened wail and plummeted to the grounds below, his wings folded. Susan saw Helen with a large rock in her hand, and she was defending herself against three Luftwings that were attacking her.

Susan threw her weight forward, her greater mass rolling the flying, struggling pair that was her and Oenea over, and Susan crashed both of her legs into Oenea's left shin.

The girl howled, and let go of Susan completely, but not before tearing off Susan's right thumbnail with her claw. Susan screamed, but shunted the pain to the side, flapping madly away from the scene. As she had expected, Oenea had partially recovered, and was in pursuit of Susan again.

Susan dived into a particulary thick clump of trees, swerving carefully around a patch of brambles. A few seconds later, there was heavy cursing from where the brambles had been before, and Susan smiled grimly.

_She's good, but she's impatient,_ she thought. She made her way around back out into the mountain sunshine, and hovered for a bit, massaging her tight, sore shoulder muscles, which if they had voices, would have been screaming in pain. Helen had thwacked her stone into the side of another skull, and another body came crashing down to the ground. The crowd was still thrumming with noise, and talk of the banquet that was to be held for the winners. A mosquito buzzed by Susan's ear, landing on her sweaty skin. She slapped at it, and Oenea broke through the overgrowth of mountain pine, bearing a very long branch with several thorns protruding out of it.

Only a deft move under the Luftwing saved Susan from a lot of unnecessary pain. She headed back down to the pine thicket, trying frantically to think of some sort of battle plan. It came to her when she grazed by the tops of the tall evergreen trees.

Onena had gone into some sort of crazy blood lust, ignoring her throbbing shin and the part of her cranium where hair had been ripped out of the scalp. Bearing her thorny stick like a baseball bat, she thwapped the trees and poked the bushes with it, looking for Susan.

_"Come out, you cowardly ground-pounder,"_ she growled, whacking at a blackened tree stump. _"Fight like a Luftwing!"_

_Thwasmack!_ Suddenly, the tip of a very tall tree (which Oenea had assumed had been shorn short) came hurtling into view, and laid itself very sharply across her face. Susan came streaking up over the tip of the tree, nearly laughing at her success. She had bent the top of a bendy pine down nearly to the ground, and let it go at the perfect moment. She turned around, in case Oenea was still up, but the female Luftwing lay on the ground, still breathing but knocked out by the force of the blow.

Helen was grappling madly with another Luftwing girl, who seemed as exhausted as she did. Wasn't The Call over yet? Her back and wings had gone numb with tiredness, and it seemed nearly impossible to raise her arm that had the stone in it.

There was a smacking sound, and a large branch fell across the other Luftwing's head, and she fell to the ground, leaving Helen to reach out and touch the familiar lines of Susan, who had ripped a branch off a tree, and was wielding it as a sword.

_"How many are left... how much time?"_ Susan panted, bobbing up and down, as she was now so exhausted that she was only beating her wings when she had started to fall. Helen had gone numb with tight muscles, and was breathing harshly.

_"Three left... don't know time,"_ the blind girl panted, clutching a stitch in her side. _"Can't take much more."_

_"Pretend to fight?"_ asked Susan, still panting and bobbing idiotically in the air. _"So no people come over?"_

Helen nodded - she had noticed that no other Luftwings had come near during most fights, so she weakly bopped Susan over the head with the stone, and Susan swiped at Helen's arm pitifully.

The cheers of the crowd grew down into chants.

_"Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two..... one......"_ the rest of the crowd erupted into loud cheers, and beckoned the ones that had managed to stay in the air back to the cave entrance. Helen and Susan came slowly, supporting each other, and they collapsed onto a pile of mosses and other soft tidbits that the organizers of The Call had thoughtfully lain out on the hard cavern floor.

Helen and Susan immediately lost all consciousness, and lapsed into dreamless nothing.

# # #

Rob, Grace and Gerald all huddled in the center of Grace's very large bed, and peered over the parchment.

"Rinroaut?" asked Rob, wrinkling his nose. "What in the hey is a Rinroaut?"

"Well," Gerald said, "did we get it right?"

Grace pointed to the chart they had made over a clean sheet of parchment.

__

It's where Gryffindor and Slytherin are the same,

Seek not in head but in brain,

Rin

__

Second, look in marrow, not in bone,

Not in a gelding, but in a roan.

ro

__

Third, apple, oak, rowan,

Find not in deer, but in fawn,

a

__

Fourth, not in the shell but in the nut,

See not in open, but in shut.

ut

__

Look in places the meek would not try,

See where winged humans fly,

Converse with Luftwing king,

See beyond golden wing...

"It has to be right," Grace said frankly. "Unless it's really not a word riddle, and we missed something."

"Rinoraut," Gerald mused. "It sounds familiar."

"There's a mountain called _Rinonaut_," Rob said. 

"Haw did you find that one out?" Grace asked, astonished. "I thought that servants are uneducated."

Rob kneaded the sides of the feather mattress nervously. "I snuck into the library to read, when I was supposed to be polishing tables," he admitted.

Gerald grinned. "That would be just like you."

"Well," Grace interrupted, "do you think that the rhyme would have been misinterpreted?" 

Rob shrugged, and reached up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and frowned when he remembered that they weren't there. "It's possible. It could have been conceived a long time ago, when the mountain was something different."

Gerald shrugged. "You want to try it? Does anybody know how to get to this Rinonaut?"

Grace nodded. "I have an atlas. Wait here."

Grace got off the bed, and walked across the room, where there was a sizable bookcase with many leather-bound books. She ran her finger along the spines of the book, reading the titles, before pulling out one of the thicker volumes and bringing it over to the bed.

"I think that this is it," Grace said, opening to the eighty-seventh page. "See? Here's Sapius."

It was indeed Castle Sapius, and it was a very detailed, two-page map that showed boundaries to other countries, roads, waterways, and mountains. Sure enough, one of the largest mountains was clearly labeled Rinonaut.

They stared at the page in silence for a moment, before looking at each other. "You want to try it?" Gerald repeated. Grace shrugged.

"Do you want to stay here and become old?" she countered. "We're young, strong, and we can try everything else later. What's a Luftwing, by the way?" she asked, reading over the last part of the rhyme.

"They're some sort of winged monster that attacks humans and cattle," Gerald replied smartly. He could be sure of this because Master Scotia had lectured about Luftwings for an entire day.

Rob shuddered. "Winged monster?"

Grace shut the atlas with a loud snap. "We'll worry about that when it comes. For now, let's get some sleep."

# # #

A/N: Well, one more chapter closer to the grande finale, eh? My muse had gone for a vacation somewhere in the tropics, so that's why this chapter took so long in the making. ^_^ Well, now the muse is back in residence, and it hopes, (and I do too) that you enjoyed my story as of thus far! And as always, the parting words - Read and Review, please!

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: Whatever is in the Harry Potter books belongs to *her* whatever else belongs to *me*. ^_~


	9. Sailor's Delight

If one chanced to look closely, they might have seen three figures, laden in bundles of clothing, waddling away from Sapius as fast as possible. Now, on cool, clear crisp evenings like this, most may have not given this a second thought - beggars came to appeal to the Good King for food and shelter, and the king was generous to those less wealthy than he. But these were not ordinary beggars.

"This is _ridiculous_," one of the bundles hissed, stepping in a mud puddle.

"Shut up!" a decidedly female voice was heard to answer. "When they find we're _gone_, they're going to be looking for two nobles and a servant. It's going to be a bit easier if somebody spots two nobles and a servant piddling about with no good reason!"

The third figure was quiet, smoothing out the map, which looked like it had been torn out of an atlas. "That way," he said, pointing in a northwesterly direction. 

"Besides," the female voice went on, "we can get out of the clothes when we get far enough away from Sapius."

The first figure didn't answer, just kept up with the others. When the next morning dawned, it would not be cool and clear, but large thunderheads had gathered in the sky, threatening to downpour.

# # #

_"You're legends,"_ Yizeer told his adoptive daughters. _"No human-Luftwing has ever survived The Call."_

Helen and Susan nodded sickly. Neither of them had spoken much since The Calling, and Susan was beginning to think that she would never speak again. Every morning she had a headache from her teeth being clenched so tightly together, and her throat was sore from silent screaming in her dreams. She massaged her throat as she thought of it - and bumped into someone.

_"I'm sorry.."_ she croaked, looking up. But as she did, her words stuck in her throat like briars.

She had run into the most handsome man she had ever seen, human or not. Like all Luftwings, he had black fur and wings, but this one was very muscular and tan. Muscles bulged out over his body, and his long brown hair was pulled back into a pigtail at the nape of his neck. He flashed a perfectly white smile, and bowed slightly.

_"It's quite all right, I assure you,"_ he said eloquently. _"Susan, right? I've heard about you. I passed The Call two years ago - the first week after is really horrible, isn't it? It'll get better, I promise."_

Susan opened her mouth to speak, but her throat tightened, and she barely managed to nod. Helen, sensing what was going on, stifled a giggle.

_"How rude of me,"_ the very handsome Luftwing went on, _"I haven't introduced myself. I am Reicano, of nest seven."_

Yizeer grinned at Susan, who was still rendered speechless. _"Yes, Reicano, we should be getting along now... see you around."_

Reicano grinned again, nodded to Yizeer, and winked at Susan, who was still mute, and then he flew off.

_"My God,"_ Susan said faintly, gasping slightly. _"I mean... my God!"_

Yizeer laughed. _"You're not the only one,_ _he does that to _all_ the females around here. But he seems to have taken an interest in you... I told you, the ones that survive The Calling always get the best mates."_

Helen inhaled mountain air so sharply she choked on it. _"Mates?!"_

_"Yes... Goodness, Helen, when do you _humans_ get mates... you are eleven, aren't you?"_

Susan, who was still staring at the spot where Reicano was before, snapped back to the present. _"Most humans don't get married until they're in their twenties... some later than that... and some don't at all!"_

_"Strange,"_ Yizeer commented, shaking his head.

_"Yizeer,"_ Helen asked abruptly, _"did _you_ ever have a mate?"_

Yizeer's eyes widened, as if he was going to respond tartly, then his features rearranged themselves confusedly. _"I... I don't know..."_

Helen whirled around to where Yizeer was. _"You don't _know_? It's not like something you forget."_

Susan watched Yizeer carefully. His face scrunched into a sad position, as if he were about to launch into a sob story, then got angry again. She frowned. _It's almost like he's being controlled, or something..._

Suddenly, lightning cracked outside, and rain poured in torrents. Several Luftwings came in for a crash course, as it was hard to fly when rain pelted on delicate wings. Yizeer's mouth opened.

_"Fewmets!"_ he cursed, going to help the elderly Luftwings move their nests out of the drenching rainpour.

Susan and Helen stood silently for a moment. _"It was sunny a moment ago, wasn't it, Susan?"_ Helen asked.

_"I thought it was... and how can you forget if you were _married_ or not?"_ inquired Susan. Nobody answered. 

# # #

Erika Potter was enchanted by shiny objects, and the large, polished brass knob that shone like sunshine over her was just too much temptation for her tiny fingers. She reached up to touch the gleaming metal, when it gave out from behind her fingers and a large white board swung backwards, revealing a hole in the wall, and a new room.

Baby lips curled into a slight frown. She was going to have to figure out how these strange 'door' contraptions worked. Erika toddled into the room.

In this room was the lady with the very twisty hair, in the same shade of Erika's own black, except there was much, much more of it. When her legs gave in from under her, the black-haired lady looked up.

Sarah, who was feeling rather down at the moment, smiled slightly at the baby who was crawling around on the floor. "I remember when Susan was your size," she told Erika. Erika cooed in response.

Sarah got up off her bed and towered over the baby, placing her hands on her hips. "What are you laughing at?" she asked in an ice-cream-voice. 

"Up, up, up!" Erika chanted. She had figured out that if she said that, most of the time somebody picked her up off the ground, so she could see all over. Erika was quite sure that if the right person picked her up someday, she might be able to see the whole world. Sarah complied and picked the baby up.

Erika Potter looked a lot like her father, in the respects that she had the same black hair, and the same green eyes, even though the eyes were more hazel than green. Susan put her nose up to Erika's. "You know what Susan did when she was your age? Once, she got so mad at me, she went outside and started banging her head on the concrete. She did that a few times, before she realized it was painful, and stopped doing it."

"You should hear what the twins did when they were little," a voice said from behind.

Sarah's hand was to her wand, and nearly had it aimed before she realized it was only Gabriel in the doorframe.

"Did you hear about the time they buttered the couch?" Gabriel asked, not missing a beat. 

"Can't say I heard that one," Sarah replied, pocketing her wand.

"Once, when I was gone, and Seamus was taking a nap, Gerald got out the tub of margarine, and started spreading it all over the white sofa." Gabriel started making exaggerated gestures of scooping butter up with her fingers, and then dramatically spreading it over the couch.

"They _didn't_," Sarah said, bouncing Erika on her hip.

"They _did_," Gabriel said firmly. Stubbing her foot against the doorframe, she looked up. "I'm sorry about you and Draco, Sarah."

Sarah shook her head, and tickled Erika under the chin. "Don't be. It was stupid to even think of it - it really wouldn't have worked out."

"Well, if he ever makes you mad again, you could testify as a witness to his involvement with Tom Riddle," Gabriel pointed out with grim good humor.

"You have the oddest way of cheering people up," Sarah said dryly. "_Stupid, stupid, stupid_! Why in the hell didn't I inquire into his past?" she fumed, a line, thinner than gossamer creasing her brows.

Gabriel shrugged and sat down on the bed. "Everybody acts like that when they're engaged - it's a good thing you weren't here when Seamus and I first got married. We were nuts."

Susan shook her head again. "I should have been worrying about Susan, anyway. I hope she's all right."

"She should be," Gabriel said firmly. "Goodness knows that she has a cooler head than _you_ do."

Sarah glared at her.

# # #

The company that was Gerald, Grace, and Rob had gotten quite a distance from the castle. Of course, it wouldn't have been the same if they had ridden a basilisk, for say, but it was good timing anyway. 

"We should be coming on the 'Black River' any minute now," Rob said, as he was manning the atlas.

"Good," Gerald said, not noticing the look that had flickered across Grace's face. "I'm tired of all this bloody walking."

Twenty minutes later, the threesome did indeed come upon the River, and it was a sight to behold. The ends of the river spanned out of sight, and it was way too far to the other bank to swim. What was more curious than this however, is that the water was actually an ebony shade, and far off in the center of the raging water, there was a small, but overgrown island. Grace couldn't help but notice that even though the sky was thick with fat rainclouds, there was a perfectly circle patch of bright blue sky.

"Odd," Rob said, rubbing his swollen eyes, and touching the black water, letting it run over his fingers.

"How are we supposed to get across?" Gerald asked, slightly panicky.

"Um..." Grace said, looking around.

"Yer lookin' ter cross th' Black River?" a voice asked.

The three whirled around, to come face-to-face with a man. He was no taller than they were, though he looked eons older. His front teeth were missing, and he wore simple breeches and a shirt.

"Er, yes," Rob replied, eyeing the man.

"Come with me."

They followed the man to a rather wretched-looking hovel, in front of which was four kayaks, looking as if they had been hewed out of the trunks of trees.

"Wow!" Grace said, clapping her hands together. "Perfect!"

"How much?" asked the ever practical Rob.

The man crossed his arms. "How much yer got?"

Rob looked at Gerald, who looked at Grace. They hadn't thought to bring any money. Grace looked at the pair again, and released a long, suffering sigh, before pulling a band off her wrist.

"That should cover it," she told the man, handing over the ruby and golden bracelet. The man took it, and looked it over.

"It does," he agreed. He took a shuddering breath, as if intending to speak, but he exhaled it. "Have a nice trip," he supplied awkwardly.

"Thanks," Gerald said dryly, attempting to climb in the kayak, which was rather hard as it kept wobbling about. Finally Rob steadied it, and Gerald gingerly climbed in.

"Come on," Grace said, digging a paddle into the black waters. The wooden kayak glided smoothly across the surface, skimming like a water bug. It was a very well made craft, light and agile. When the three of them were a good half mile out, the man stopped watching them, shook his head and walked back into his hovel, muttering to himself.

# # #

Yizeer was out of sorts the rest of the day, avoiding the girls like the black plague. Instead of bothering him, the twosome retreated to the safe walls of the nest, conversing and munching on various berries and mosses.

__

"You know," Helen said, biting into a berry, _"when I was human, I wouldn't have thought of eating this."_

Susan shrugged, spreading a piece of mountain moss with a form of berry jam. _"Helen, have you thought that there might be anything... wrong... with this place?"_

Helen scratched the top of her head. _ "What do you mean?"_

"Yizeer forgetting that if he had a mate or not... rainstorms at a drop of a hat... something's up."

"You just noticed," Helen said dryly. She leaned back against the walls of the nest. _"I think this place is being controlled. Either that, or there's something really wrong with the climate controls."_

_"Do we even know where we are?"_ asked Susan, finally. _"This can't be earth. This isn't in our solar system. Unless Jupiter has become suddenly life-formed friendly."_

Helen shook her head. _"Wish we knew where Rob and the others are. That might help. We haven't been anywhere off the mountainside."_

Susan shrugged and turned back to her moss.

# # #

"I don't like that river," Godric informed the other three, carefully wiping the horn of his trumpet.

"Honestly," Salazar said, slumping his head against his fist. "You sound like Helga." Helga took no particular offence to this, being used to Salazar's cutting tongue.

"I don't like it either, but unless you plan to pick them up and deposit them on the other side of the banks, you talking about it doesn't to any good," Rowena said, scratching the side of her nose. "Helga," she said, turning to face the fourth founder. "You're awfully quiet."

Helga gave a watery smile. "It's nothing."

Salazar stroked his bushy moustache. "She's Seen something unpleasant."

Helga shrugged. It was not her business to go about blabbing fates. Besides, she learned that if she said anything, things always went haywire.

There was silence for a moment, before Godric interrupted it by blowing an especially squeaky b flat in Salazar's ear, making his clap his hands over his ears and holler. The two ladies sighed as Salazar started chasing Godric around the room, who was trumpeting something of a patriotic song as he ran in circles.

# # #

Gerald, Grace and Rob met the other side of the banks around noon the next day. The ominous cloud cover that seemed to plague the place lifted, and the three were noticeably startled to find how close they were to a very tall mountain.

Rob checked his map, which was, by now, very crumpled and wet. But his eyes were refusing to focus properly, so he handed it to Grace.

"Rinoraut," Grace said, looking up at the stone with breathless awe. Gerald made a whining noise in his throat.

"We have to climb _up_ that?" he asked wearily. Grace whapped him over the head with her paddle.

Rob moaned as he hauled the kayak to the side. They had been paddling for nearly three hours, and his arms felt like they were going to fall off of his shoulders. His eyes were screaming, and they kept on closing in on themselves.

"Can't we sleep for a while?" he whimpered, forgetting about being dignified about it in the pain of the moment. Grace attempted to sigh, but it quickly turned into a yawn.

"Yehuh," she said, lumbering over to a tree. The three of them collapsed under the tree, and fell somewhere between unconsciousness and sleep.

# # #

The mad rush of Luftwings to the entrance of the huge cave awakened Susan and Helen from their own lazy nap, cuddled in a nest.

_"What's up?"_ Helen asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes. In the crowd of Luftwings that passed, one stopped, a kindly little one named Tiarana.

_"Intruders!"_ Tiarana said excitedly. _"Found under the mountain... humans, too!"_ Before she could explain more, she was whisked away in the turmoil of the crowd.

_"What the hell are human intruders doing here?"_ asked Susan as she and Helen joined the throng of Luftwings. _"I thought that humans and Luftwings hated each other."_

Helen shrugged, grabbing onto Susan's sleeve - which was now little more than a greasy rag - and praying not to be lost in the mess. When the crowd stopped, Susan couldn't see anything.

_"What do you see?"_ asked Helen, rolling on the balls of her feet.

_"The backs of heads,"_ Susan replied, trying to see over tall wings.

_"Hey!"_ a voice called. Susan looked up to see Reicano sitting on a tall nest, beckoning to them, the handsome young male from earlier. _"Come up here! You can see better!"_

Helen giggled - she rarely forgot a voice. Susan paled, but managed to get her wings to work to get her up to the nest. Helen followed, still grinning in blind amusement.

Reicano smiled prettily at the two girls, flashing white teeth. Susan swallowed and forced herself to look at the spectacle.

Three humans were being dragged into the center circle, before the King Luftwing. Their bodies sparkled with silvery Talent, so Susan supposed that they probably couldn't move, or speak either. She shifted in her spot and related this all to Helen, who frowned.

_"What is your business here, humans?"_ asked the king in a grave voice that sounded much like a frown. The crowd quieted, and the three humans made muffled noises.

_"That's what they all say,"_ the king said dryly. The crowd tittered. Susan leaned forward so far that Reicano had to pull her back by the wings, save her falling out.

There was a distinct popping sound, and a voice seared out, loud, grating, and barely translatable. "Rleze uz!" the voice said.

Helen clapped a hand over her mouth. _"That's Rob!"_ she cried. Unfortunately, she cried it a little too loudly, and the entire Luftwing population turned around, including the king.

_"Do you have anything to add?"_ the king asked icily, green eyes glinting. Helen swallowed hard.

_"Sir,"_ she said with utmost respect, voice trembling, _"those humans are not intruders. We know them. Clan blood,"_ Helen explained, using the term for the greatest of friends.

The king's eyes darted from Helen to the three bound and gagged humans. _"Tell no falsehoods. Do you speak the unvarnished truth?"_

Susan made a hand sign, with her palm crossing her chest, swinging up to her chin, then curling in a fist and stopping in her breast area. This was the sign of Disarmed, shown both to say you were not going to attack, and that you are not lying. _"Unvarnished."_

Grace was trying to reacquaint what had happened. Some Luftwings were having a conversation - she hoped it wasn't about what kind of spice they would taste best with, as carnivorous Luftwings were known to eat humans every once in a while.

She had been dozing, when a shadow swooped over her. She had assumed that it was just clouds crossing the sun, but had been proven dreadfully wrong when she found that her body was in a state of paralysis, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Strange, flying people were hovering over her, and the next thing she knew she had been brought here, among legions of flying monsters. She sighed inwardly. _Maybe we'd have been better off at Sapius,_ she thought.

One of the monsters came gliding down from a higher nest. Unlike the others, she was wearing clothes, but they were little more than black scraps dangling over her body. Her black hair shone with grease, and her green eyes glinted like liquid emerald. Behind her flew another; nearly identical winged creature, with very familiar features, and cloudy eyes.

Gerald attempted to shout out, but the result was muffled by magic. The two Luftwings looked them over.

"Jar-eld," the black-haired one said, pointed to Gerald. "'Ob. Gace," she went on, forming the words with difficulty. Realization dawned on Grace.

_Susan!_ she cried in her mind. _Helen!_

_"Release the prisoners from the bonds," _the king ordered. The five Luftwings that had spelled the humans did so with a little reluctance. Rob rubbed at his arms, which were rather asleep.

"Nice to see you again," he said dully. Helen winced. The human dialect was so coarse!

_"You know these humans?"_ asked the King, ice green eyes freezing the two young Luftwings with their glare.

Susan nodded meekly. _"Before we became what we are, we were with them."_

_"What do they come seeking?"_ the King asked.

"Vhat 'oo ya vant?" asked Helen, struggling to form the guttural words. Luftwing language was light and rolled off the tongue like water. This was like trying to talk with a mouthful of rocks.

"I think she wants to know what we want," Gerald muttered to Rob. Rob pulled out a crumpled wad of paper, the rhyme.

"We have to converse with the Luftwing king..." Rob said. He looked at Susan. "Which one is the king?"

"Swower," Susan said, frowning at the way the words came out.

"Slower?" asked Grace. When Susan and Helen nodded, Rob repeated.

_"Your Majesty..."_ Helen trailed off.

_"They want to speak with you,"_ Susan finished. The King looked affronted.

_"If they wish an audience with royalty, they have to plan it in advance, like everyone else,"_ someone muttered from the crowd.

The King glared in the direction of the outburst, and eyed Susan and Helen again. _"Why?"_

"Vy?" Helen asked, not liking the job of mediator very much.

Gerald frowned. "How are we going to explain that we need to talk to the king because we've been transported here from another dimension and that we got a riddle in a dream that says that we have to talk to him?" he asked cynically.

Grace giggled. "Really politely?"

Rob, however, wasn't paying much attention. He was frowning at the page that had the riddle on it. "Seek beyond golden wing?"

He looked out at the vast assortment of black wings, and saw that only one, the Luftwing that was in front of them had any other color but black. He was gold.

"Beyond golden wing?" he murmured. He tensed up as he noticed the mob of winged creatures shuffling around. "Because we need to seek beyond golden wing?" he squeaked to Susan.

_"He says that... that they need to seek beyond golden wing..."_ Helen said dryly.

The king crossed his arms. _"Golden wing? That's a term for a Luftwing of royal decent. What does he need that's behind me?"_

Helen relayed this back to the other three, with difficulty. There was silence for a moment, before - later, everyone would swear that this was a gift from whatever God that was watching over them at the time - a small breeze blew into the cavern.

The breeze ruffled the cape that the King wore. Grace snapped her fingers.

"That's it! We need to see the cape!" she squealed, repeating this slower to the two Luftwing translators.

_"They need to see... your cape..."_ Susan said, cringing. The King looked behind himself at the white embroidered cape that swung between his shoulderblades. _"Your friends aren't thieves, are they? Unvarnished truth again."_

_"Not that we know of,"_ Helen replied steadily. The King glared at the group of humans, but flicked off the cape, and let it flutter to the cavern floor.

The two Luftwings and three humans crouched around it, peering at the cape. It looked like the remnants of a half-completed tapestry that had been partially trampled over. There was a smear of red blood in the corner, but other than that and a few unsightly tears, the cloth was complete.

Gerald scratched his head. "Didn't Mum say something about a tapestry during _her_ visit to Sapius?"

Rob jolted his head up abruptly. "You don't think..."

There was a moment of silence as they all regarded the tapestry. Sure enough, it was half-done, and it was a battle between light and dark beings, half completed, and the white void looked exactly like the turrets of a castle... Grace groaned.

"Vhat's rong?" asked Susan with some difficulty.

"Now I _know_ this isn't some screwy dream," she muttered.

"But what's the significance of it?" asked Rob, averting back to the problem.

They ran their hands over the tapestry, Helen and Susan marveling how they got the Luftwing King to give in to their whims so easily. 

_"Does this have anything to do with the way Yizeer was acting earlier?"_ Helen asked Susan, who shrugged.

Gerald turned the tapestry over in his hands, peering at it closely. The stitches were all the same size, all the same. It was mind-boggling to think who would put the effort in. 

Something crunched.

Gerald pulled back his hand like he had touched hot fat, and looked at the others, who had heard the crunch also. Pressing his hand back down emitted the crunching sound again.

There was a tear in the side, and Rob gently tugged at it until it was big enough for him to reach into. He gently pushed his way through the fibers until his hand clasped around something round, which he pulled out. Oddly, none of the Luftwings seemed to mind this ravaging of the tapestry.

It was a transparent tube, with a stopper on either side. Rob pulled out the cork, and dumped it to the floor. Out came three skinny, feathery wisps, and a piece of parchment. Grace took up the parchment, and read:

_"I'm the strangest creature you'll ever find, two eyes in front and many behind"._

One line scribbled into the parchment, and that was all. Susan plucked one of the wisps from the ground and looked at it. It was very soft, and shiny brown and green, which glinted like precious metal in the sinking sun's light.

"What is it?" asked Gerald, looking at the parchment.

Out of habit, Rob went to push up his glasses, only to remember that he wasn't wearing them. "I have no idea."

_"Two eyes in front and many behind?"_ inquired Helen. _"How can a creature have more than two eyes? Is it a spider?"_

Susan shook her head, examining the wisp she held in her hand. _"I think it's some sort of bird."_

"Speak in normal English, please," Gerald said irritably.

Helen wrinkled her brow. "'Oo speek in 'Uftwing."

"She's telling you to speak in Luftwing," Grace giggled. "Go Helen!"

Helen, however, wasn't paying attention. She rolled up the tapestry with careful hands and presented it back to the Luftwing King, who took it. _"We are forever indebted to your generosity,"_ Helen said.

_"You are to be leaving with the humans?"_ the King said, making no note of Helen's eloquence.

_"Well... yes,"_ Susan said, stubbing her toe in the ground. _"It is our destiny."_

The King nodded. _"It saddens us to see you go, but destiny cannot be averted. There will be no ceremony - we will supply you with provisions."_ He flew off, leaving the girls to wonder what had made the King so generous all of a sudden.

The rest of the Luftwings eventually lost interest, and flew off. Soon, the only ones left were Yizeer and Emena. They didn't say anything - they just enveloped the two girls into embraces, leaving the other three humans to watch the spectacle. Susan and Helen didn't care. In spite of herself, Susan felt a trace of wetness feel its way down her cheek. She had family somewhere else, but truthfully, she would have been content to live with Yizeer and Emena forever. They were her family here.

_"Make me proud,"_ Yizeer said, before flapping off into the cave.

Emena sniffed. _"Yizeer is not a male of many emotions."_ She smoothed a lock of hair away from Helen's face. _"I am not a female of one. Please, take care."_ Her lip trembled, before she fluttered off as well.

Never had Susan felt so alone. The two Luftwings might have just left her in the middle of a desert, for all that she felt. She sniffed loudly, before turning back to join her comrades. 

"Lez go," she told them.

# # #

Dusk found the party back on the ground, walking towards the Black River, with all five of them shouldering packs of provisions, and every so often, Helen or Susan would shoot a forlorn glance back at the mountain that was rapidly disappearing behind trees.

"_Honestly_," Gerald snapped, "you'd think their mother had died."

Grace smacked him. "Maybe to them, it's like that."

The sun was sinking even lower, tinting the sky blood red against purples. The three kayaks were still moored on the pebbly beach, and even though they were offered to share, Susan and Helen insisted they could make it across, at least to the circular island. There was the _crunchcrunchcrunch_ of the bottoms of the wooden kayaks against the shallow banks before they were out skimming over the water. Grace looked at the sun. It looked to be about seven at night.

"Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight," she whispered, reciting the old proverb. The usual cloudy sky was distorting her view of the red sky, and she felt a little queasy.

The water rippled slightly in the wind. It slopped up against the side of the boat, waves doubling, tripling, quadrupling, until they were nearly a foot high. They crashed into each other, growing larger.

The party stopped, wondering what was going on. The waves mounted, splashing, thrashing, turning the water white in spots.

Rob yelled, and yanked his paddle out of the water. A long, green tendril snaked out after it, wrapping around the ore, and with an easy snap, the wood was in two.

"Oh my God!" Gerald yelled, as thin, green water plants came to life out of the water, wrapping around his boat, tighter and tighter until the wood cracked.

Helen dropped her bag of food into the water and snatched Gerald out of the water as the wooden kayak sank beneath the steadily growing waves.

Grace was using the side of her paddle, fighting off the green plants as they struggled to take her boat, take her under. There was another snapping sound, and a scream, as Rob's boat snapped in two, just like the ore. Susan yanked him up by the back of his clothes before he went under.

"GRACE!" Gerald cried, "LOOK OUT!"

A plant, much larger than the others, had pulled out of the water. Grace slapped at it hard with her paddle, but it stormed right back, coiling tightly around her ankle, and dragging her off the boat. 

Gerald made a mad lunge, and grasped onto Grace's left wrist, and held tight. Helen made a despairing noise in her throat as she tried to support her's, Gerald's, and Grace's weight, as well as the added tension of the persistent vine. She beat her wings as fast and as hard as possible, but was gradually sinking towards the madly thrashing waves. There was a mad tug from behind her, which told her that Rob had grabbed onto her robes (or what was left of them), and Susan was pulling also.

Grace's hand was starting to slip from Gerald's grip.

"No!" he cried, and Helen whimpered as he pulled a little farther from her grip.

"Gerald!" Grace yelled, face white as cheese, "let go!"

"Are you insane?!" asked Gerald, pulling harder. "I'm going down _with_ you if I have to!"

Grace writhed in her brother's strong grip. "NO!" she said so forcefully that Gerald almost let go in spite of himself. "Don't you see? Then he'll win TWICE!"

"Grace... Grace..." Gerald chanted, "please don't do this to me..."

"Do what, you dumbass!" Grace shouted. "I want to save your life! I want you to get out of this fucking dimension, and I don't want to drag you down with me! LET GO OF ME!"

Gerald was openly sobbing now. "No... nonono..."

"I have a destiny, dammnit! And this happens to be it! You have one too, and this DOESN'T HAPPEN TO BE IT!"

They were all sinking, slowly towards the black waters. Grace was almost submerged to her waist in the thrashing wetness. She stopped writhing, and looked down into the glossy waters. "I'm coming," she whispered. She looked back at her brother, despairingly, but with resolve. "I love you," she said. 

With that, she gave her brother's arm a sudden unexpected slap, which made him release her on account of reflex. The pulling group of children shot away like a cork out of a bottle, due from the release of pressure. Gerald was able to see a cloud of golden hair billow just below the surface of the water, before sinking out of sight.

The remaining four crash-landed on the island in the middle of the Black River. They were all weeping uncontrollably; even Rob had lost his composure. Gerald was wailing loud enough to shatter glass.

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" he was crying over and over again. "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

Rob gripped handfuls of fresh grass, and said, in nearly a choked whisper, "Who said anything about happy endings?"

# # #

Taps rang over the night.

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound?_

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now I'm found.

Was blind but now I see..

Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear,

And Grace my fears relieved,

How precious did that Grace appear,

The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares,

I have already come,

Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far,

And Grace will lead me home.

The Lord had promised good to me,

His Word my hope secures,

He will my shield and portion be,

As long as life endures.

When we've been there ten thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun,

We've no less days to sing God's praise,

Then when we've first begun...

# # #

A/N: I can't believe I just *wrote* that! ::wails:: Damn the storyline that requires I kill somebody off! Damn it! ::sobs:: I made myself cry while writing this. Seriously. No, this is not the end of the story, and *no*, I'm not done with Grace yet. ::timidly:: If you all don't hate me too much, please review? I've been noticing the box is kinda empty lately...

~Moxie ^_^ ::sniff::

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own this computer. I don't own America Online. I don't own anything of value. I don't have a lawyer. Don't sue. 


	10. Writer's Block

The body settled down in the jet obsidian waters, thumping the white sand, lifeless. Golden locks sprawled out like liquid; white face a picturesque of unmarked death. Crystal bubbles escaped to the surface, rising away from the body, and torn green shoots untwined themselves from around the ankles of the figure, dead, gone.

A fish swam by, interested in the intruder. Before he could move for a closer inspection, however, the body shimmered almost painfully in a cascading sprinkler of green, white silver, black, bruise purple, and was gone.

# # #

Hayley flopped on her bed, tired. She was tired of this school, tired of the children, tired of the professors, and ready to go home. Only one thought kept her going: Helen. And she was beginning to debate herself in the matter of just going home. She got up off her bed and bustled around the fireplace, placing a saucepan on to warm milk for herself and Christopher, who was looking at a picture book in the corner.

"Mummy," Christopher said after a bit, "Mummy, who's on our bed?"

"Mmm," Hayley said, pouring the milk into mugs.

"Mummy, there's somebody on the bed!" Christopher insisted, looking very frightened. Hayley sighed and turned around.

"Christopher, there's nobody..." she trailed off, looking at the bed. There _was_ somebody on the bed. She might have screamed, but her voice stuck in her throat, and she made no noise, approaching the person that was lying down on the bed.

It was a girl, and she was sopping wet, and very sandy. Her dark blonde hair lay out on the pillow, and her face was white, whiter than the moon.

Hayley placed the back of her hand on the girl's cheek. It was colder than ice, but very, very soft. Hayley got the feeling that she was floating on a cloud, too surprised to scream or run for help. She put her ear down near the lost girl's mouth. She wasn't breathing. She was dead, drowned. Plant tendrils snaked around her limbs, leaving red welts where they had cut off the circulation.

She frowned, and pulled a sheet over the girl's head, still feeling very loose and floaty, in a dream trance. She felt _Deja vu_-ish, like this had happened before... her eyes fell on a picture that Hayley had sitting on her dresser, one of all the children eating ice cream cones over summer vacation. She stared at it, thinking. Then she gasped and ran back over to the body lying on the bed, pulling down the sheet. Hayley gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth as the world turned upside down, throwing her off of it, gravity reversed.

"Grace," she whispered, head spinning, ambling towards the door, Christopher whimpering along behind his mother. 

The halls swam around; the pictures like fishes in the sea. Gabriel was in her room, reading, but she stopped when she saw the incredibly distressed Hayley and Christopher. "What is it? Hayley? Are you going to be sick?"

Hayley thought she might be, but she shook her head. "Come to my room," she said instead. Gabriel, puzzled, followed.

# # #

After a long, long while, the tears dried out of the remaining foursome, left on the island in the middle of the Black River. Susan snuffled miserably. Crying would have helped, but she was out of tears, out of breath, out of life. She tried to scream her anguish - even that might have helped - but it came out as a raspy whimper.

"This isn't fair," Gerald said hoarsely. "What did I - we - do to deserve this?"

"Who said anything about this being fair?" Rob whispered. Gerald's eyes blazed with unexpected fire.

"What do you _mean_, it's not supposed to be fair?! You and your Goddamn logic can just jump right off a cliff, _do you hear me_?" he screamed, voice riding crescendo after crescendo until it was breaking, advancing on Rob, who backed up ever so slightly. "The _other half _of me has _died_, do you hear me? Do you?! The _last_ thing I need now is _your_ ever so valued_ input_!"

Rob held himself back from screaming at his friend, by holding his breath until he was light headed. _He's upset,_ Rob thought, _upset. He has a right to be so. Don't you _dare_ say anything back, Rob, don't you _dare_..._

Rob's face turned bright red from the effort of not snapping. He looked around, only to find that Susan and Helen were not there. 

"If you're done," Rob said as gently as possible, "may we go and find where the girls are?"

Gerald looked as if he might just blow up again, but managed to control it, and he nodded tightly, jaw clenched, as he accompanied Rob around the perimeter of the island.

They found the two girls in front of a tree covered in ivy, slicing the plants off the trunk with deft slices with their fingernails. They had located four pieces of driftwood and were roping them together.

"What are you doing?" asked Rob, intrigued for a moment.

Helen looked up, deciding how to answer as simply as possible. She grabbed a twig and wrote in the ground, with great misspellings, but this is what it said:

_Boats sink. You no fly. You no boat. We carry you across, we fly, you sit._ When she had finished, she gestured towards the wooden frame that Susan was tying together, tearing more ivy off the tree as she did so.

"Will it hold us?" asked Rob.

Helen shrugged, and went back to her tying. Rob swallowed nervously, and looked at Gerald, who looked impassive. Gerald went to the shore and stared out at the waters for a very long time, watching the sunrise, tinting the sky pink, which shone through the ever-present black cloud cover. Rob was about to go after him, when Susan grabbed his arm, and shook her head, gesturing for him to help them.

The contraption was about three feet wide and six feet across, made by four tawny branches tied together as a frame, and secured by a glue of dirt and sand. The interior was a weave, first tying short lengths of ivy lengthwise, and weaving them the opposite way. They smothered the top with the sand and soil paste, and Rob placed his hand on it. It felt surpassingly sturdy.

The two girls then went to work braiding ivy together for the harnesses, the braids to make them extra strong. When they had made three braids each, they braided those together, making it so strong that even if Susan pulled as hard as she could from one end and Helen from another, it wouldn't snap.

Rob, feeling unused, walked over to where Gerald stood, perpetually staring at the waves. They were silent for several uneasy seconds, before Gerald spoke.

"My sister is under all that," he said in monotones. Rob sighed.

"I'm sorry, I really am," he said, looking at Gerald through his unfocused eyes. "I don't mean to sound so - stoic all the time. It's just the way I am," he finished lamely, helplessly. Gerald looked at him with blue eyes, empty and cold as a vast ocean.

"It's not your fault," he said, looking back out at the lapping waves. Rob looked at him oddly. In one incidence, all of Gerald's innocence had been taken away. He was aged now, as ridiculous as that sounded, beyond his years. He would have a pain forever in his heart, when he laughed, he was Grace, when he cried, he was Grace, when he slept, he would be Grace. Half of him was gone forever, and Rob had never felt so utterly helpless before. He left Gerald without saying a word, because the two semi-humans were calling him to help try out the harnesses.

# # #

Grace was in nothing, because there was no other word to describe where she was. Space was nothing, breath was nothing, colors were nothing in this perpetual nothing she was in. She knew she was dead - but she wasn't alarmed. She wasn't feeling. She was nothing.

She arched her neck to look around lazily; taking in with note that her ghostly mist was somewhat scarred by plant matter. But since she was nothing, there wasn't much she could do, except for wait. She closed her awareness. She liked this nothing, this release of conscious, release of pressure, release of responsibility.

But the release wasn't long, a question floated in her mind. Grace thought. She could be earth, sky and stars, radiant moonlight, running wind, tripping eighth notes in a billowing action to scamper to people's eardrums. She could be the soft swish of a skirt against the dance floor, she could be the red, red of the lipstick that smiled glossily at the lover and transferred lips when the meeting between one heart to another began, she could be the budding of a flower, the patter of rain on a windowsill, the rhythm of poetry. She could be all this, all at once, all the world's happiness, if she so chose. But, she could be something else. 

There was no time in this nothingness, so she relaxed her own nothingness and let thoughts flow through her mind like water. Thinking was easier when you were nothingness, but decisions were no easier, nothingness or human. She thought of what she knew, what she didn't what she wanted. She thought of the smell of sweet dew of the springtime, and she thought of the thing she had before, that was more real than anything she would ever experience again.

And Grace chose.

# # #

The entire Hogwarts School was thrown into chaos. The five up in the room, however, were probably the most silent, and everybody let them be, due to respect.

Gabriel sat on the bedstead with her deceased daughter, stroking her damp hair, and using a brush to sort out the tangles, salty tears falling like rain. Seamus was openly sobbing, not caring about dignity. His little girl was gone, gone for good.

Sarah wasn't quite aware that her tears were coming nearly faster than Gabriel's was, and she felt like one big sorrow inside her stomach. What a rotten year it had been! And it was bound to get worse, by the looks of it all.

Robert was too distressed to cry. He just sat there, every muscle paralyzed feeling nerves scorching. It wasn't fair. He kept on trying to tell himself that life wasn't fair, but he didn't have enough sugar to make the lemons life was giving him into lemonade.

Samantha Chenelle and Hayley sat in chairs, embracing each other so tightly that they thought they would never let go, nor did they want to. Letting go was too hard. Letting go was impossible. Letting go was part of life. Life was impossible.

# # #

Three of the four woke up around nine at night the next day, having worked on the harnesses for the contraption all-night and slept all day. Gerald, however, was still sleeping, and they all thought it best not to disturb him. Bellies grumbling at them told them that it was time for them to eat, and they each wished dearly that they had not let their packs of supplies fall into the river that horrific night before. 

_"I hate this,"_ Helen said defeatedly. Nobody said anything, plodding around the thicket, looking for something to eat. The only thing remotely edible for Rob was a small handful of gooseberries, which he politely offered to Helen and Susan, who declined. They were munching on leaves that tasted terrible, but at least their digestive tract could handle foliage better than Rob's could. Rob ate half of the berries - which were very unripened - and then wrapped the rest in a grape leaf, planning to save some for Gerald. As he did so, he found himself wishing dearly that grapes were in season. Susan snapped off a length of brittle grapevine, and wrote in the dirt.

_Eat, you, grapeleaf?_

Rob made a face, but then his stomach rumbled desperately, and he picked a few of the human-friendly leaves for later consumption, though eating one now.

Gerald was up by the time they had gotten back, and he was looking desolately out at the sea again. Rob offered him the gooseberries, which he inhaled ravenously.

_"Well, it's good he's eating,"_ Susan whispered to Helen, _"sometimes depressed people don't want to eat."_

Helen nodded. _"I was worried about that too."_

Everybody finished off their pitiful meal, and the two half-Luftwings attached themselves to the harnesses, and waited patiently for the two humans to get on, and grasp tightly at the stabilizing rope. Gerald was looking straight ahead with a desolate look again, and Rob swallowed.

Helen and Susan went aloft, beating rapidly for about two minutes before getting the contraption to move off the ground. Wings beating so hard they were kicking up dirt, they were off.

They never reached an altitude of above three feet over the water, and the going was slow. More than once, the harness would skim the water, causing everybody except Gerald - who seemed oblivious to the world - to gasp with horror, and make Helen and Susan flap madly in an effort to get off the water.

An exhausting and terrifying twenty minutes later, the two semi-Luftwings crash landed in the banks of the river, where there was about two feet of depth. Helen and Susan quickly slashed the harnesses away, and hauled the contraption onto the banks. Through their torn clothing, Rob and Gerald could easily see the deep red welts that marked where the harnesses were. Susan's welts were bleeding slightly.

They were silent for a few moments. "What are we going to do with this?" Rob asked, pointing at the contraption. Nobody answered.

Susan ran her finger in the dirt. _We go. Far away, riddle?_

Helen sighed and pulled out a decrepit tatter of paper from her pocket. It still read the same - _I'm the strangest creature you'll ever find, two eyes in front and many behind_ - but it made no more sense.

"I suggest we go and get shelter for the night," Rob said practically, pulling his rags up over his shoulders. Helen and Susan nodded, Gerald grunted. Susan sighed, and looked at a banked of corner of the river, where algae and water lilies grew. She snapped off the largest lily she could feel, and tossed it in the Black River. The tiny white plant bobbed in the waves that threatened to overtake it, but stayed afloat.

"Come on," she said to Gerald, placing a hand around his shoulders and leading him away from the accursed river.

# # #

It rained that night. Susan shivered in the cold rain, and looked around. They were in the middle of a wooded area, and the trees dripped large, cold waterdrops onto unsuspecting shoulders and scalps. 

_"I was in Girl Guides when I was younger,"_ she said abruptly, _"and we learned how to make shelter out of sticks..."_

Rob, wet, miserable, tired, sighed. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

Helen whirled around. _"You understand us?"_

Rob shrugged. "Some of it. But we can't exactly make a shelter unless you find sticks to use..."

The group sighed and plodded on. They were starving, wet, grieving. Moral was indescribably low.

"I can't walk anymore," Gerald said, after nearly two hours of silence. "We're staying here, unless you'd rather go on without me." He sat down with a defiant flump.

Everybody else huddled under the foliage of a rather large tree. Helen sneezed. _"I'm going to catch pneumonia."_

Everybody else snuffled miserably. They were silent for a few moments, before there was a scratching sound behind them. Flipping wet hair out of her eyes, Susan grappled at a large branch, wide-eyed with suspicion. The rest of the group looked astonished when Susan laughed and dropped the branch. She made a cooing sound to the left of the big tree, and beckoned for something.

There was a whimpering sound, and a small puppy trotted out from beyond the tree trunk, and shook itself out. It was a golden-brown color, and had rather long, shaggy fur that stuck together in clumps because of the moisture in the air. It didn't look rabid, but on the contrary it actually looked rather friendly, with it's sodden tail thumping the ground, and long pink tongue panting. It looked happy to see them. 

_"Poor thing,"_ Susan said, scratching the dog's head. _"It's been out here in the cold and wet... now stop it!"_ she laughed as the dog started attacking her face with its tongue. The dog contentedly trotted over to Rob and Helen to give the same greeting. Even Gerald had to crack a slight smile at this intruder - he loved dogs.

Eventually the dog curled up between Susan and Gerald, and went to sleep. The other four shrugged and did the same.

# # #

The next morning dawned pearly gray and actually rather warm, despite the layer of dew that covered the four and the dog. They all got up and felt the sun-warmed dew roll off their bodies, and the dog shook itself out again.

"What should we call the dog?" asked Rob. "I don't want to be calling it _dog_ all the time."

_"What sex is it?"_ inquired Susan, smothering a yawn.

_"Female,"_ Helen said, after checking.

Gerald snapped out of his stupor long enough to give the dog's head a pat. "I think we should call it Sonrika Uline Nancy Nellie Yvonne the seventh," he said seriously. There was silence for several seconds.

"Uhh," Rob said, "Here, Sonrika Uline Nancy Nellie Yvonne the seventh!" he called. The dog trotted gaily over to him. Helen and Susan snorted with laughter. 

"Sunny?" asked Helen, stumbling a bit over the syllables.

Gerald grinned. "Exactly." The dog whimpered comically and covered its nose with one paw. Rob picked a twig off of the ground, and solemnly touched the dog's shoulders with it.

"I dub thee Sonrika Uline Nancy Nellie Yvonne the seventh," he said, chuckling slightly as he said it. Everybody giggled nervously, feeling some of the grief from the other night dissipate away slightly.

_"What about this riddle?" _asked Susan, switching back to the easier tongue. Helen pulled out the tatter of paper again, and looked at it.

"Grace was the one that was good at riddles," Gerald said softly. "I was always hopeless."

"I'm the strangest creature you'll ever find, two eyes in front and many behind?" asked Rob. "What has more than two eyes? A spider?"

Helen shook her head. _"Spiders don't have eyes behind them... do they?"_ She turned her blind eyes in the direction of Susan, who shook her head back.

_"No... I don't get it either."_ She growled, and suddenly looked more animal than Rob had ever imagined. _"I hate this damn universe and these people that are playing with our heads!"_

_"Don't we all?"_ Helen asked again. She sneezed, and covered her mouth with her hand. _"Ah. Nobody would happen to have something to wipe their noses on, would they?"_

Gerald and Susan shook their heads, while Rob slapped his pockets. "No," he said, "you'll just have to use your... oh, wait. I don't suppose we'll be needing this anymore." He pulled out a page of the atlas they had used to get to the mountain where Susan and Helen were, and handed it to Helen. Sunny sat on her haunches and started abruptly barking at the wet piece of paper Rob had held out to Helen.

"What is it, girl?" asked Gerald, seeming alert. "What is it?" Sunny kept on barking.

_"Is there something on the paper?"_ inquired Susan. _"Look at it."_

Rob did so, and shook his head. "No. No bugs or anything." Gerald took the paper from him and looked at it.

It was the part of the paper that showed the mountain ranges. They all were there - Rinonaut, Opus, King Marmoset valley, Queen Peacock heights, and several others. Gerald squinted at it.

"What was that riddle again?" he asked, quietly. Susan read it to him again.

"Two eyes in front and many behind, eh?" he repeated, grinning slightly. "What about eyes in the metaphorical sense?"

"What about them?" Rob asked, intrigued.

"Peacock," Gerald explained. "A peacock has two eyes in front, and many behind. The feathers?"

There was silence for a moment as this digested. Rob exhaled. "Queen Peacock heights..." he whispered. "The design on a peacock's feathers are eyes..."

Helen wiped her nose on a large maple leaf. _"Good thing I didn't take it for a Kleenex, then."_

Gerald leaned next to Sunny and knotted his fingers in the dog's fur. "And we owe it all to Sunny here," he crooned.

Rob smoothed out the salvaged atlas. "It's about fifty miles from here," he informed them. "That'd be about a twenty day walk, if we took it slow."

Cold fire entwined in Susan's eyes. _"Then we just won't take it slow, will we?"_

# # #

**_It was a flat place, smooth but unforgiving. "A prisoner in a skin," is what She told him. _**

"Why can't I see you?" he whimpered, searching the flat place, the flat nothingness. "I want to see you!" He didn't just want to see her. He wanted to touch her, know she was real, know she was there. "I want to come with you! Don't leave me alone!"

"You aren't alone," the voice came, somewhat sharper.

"But I'm not in company either! Where are you? Why can't you come back?"

"Because I can't. I would if I could but I can't, I can't, I can't..."

He was near tears, in this nothingness, this confining nothingness that told him nothing, kept him in the dark, running running running. 

"I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't," the nothingness was saying, over and over until the words had no meaning. "I can't, but I'm there. I'm with you. Not in shape, but in form. I am with you, and will be with you when you die, then I will die a second death, and then we will be together."

"Why?" he asked twisting the nothingness, trying to make it tangible, something he could touch. "Why did this happen?"

There was silence, empty silence before She answered. "Because that's what the Author wrote for me... you can't change what's in print... it's always there, White-Out or not, backspace scribble..."

He frowned at what She was telling him. The Author? What was this? A story?

# # #

He awoke early the next morning, stomach growling fiercely. Gerald moaned at the noise and nearly doubled up in pain. He would have sold his soul for something to eat, but he lay there for a while, thinking about his dreams, and wondered if he really thought who he was talking to was who it sounded like, and shook his head. He needed to wake up.

A few paces down from where he and the rest of the group was sleeping was a babbling brook, which he fell on his stomach for and drank in great thirsty gulps, trying to satisfy his hunger with liquid. After drinking all his stomach would hold, he sat up, and rested, before he heard a whimper beside him.

It was Sunny, and she held a good-sized trout in her jaws, which she lay proudly before her master's feet, wagging her tail. Gerald stared at the silvery fish, not knowing whether to cry or faint from hunger. He moaned faintly.

"For me?" he asked. Sunny barked and thumped her tail on the ground. Gerald needed no second urging. He had no idea how to prepare fish, but he found a sharp rock and hacked the fish to tiny, bloody raw bits, and ate those hungrily, barely restraining himself from eating the entire trout. He gave the bones to Sunny to chew, which she did, and he made his way back to the camp, where his counterparts were snoozing under a maple tree.

Gerald gently shook them all awake, and Rob ate the trout that Gerald offered him gratefully, but Susan and Helen said that they would find their own meal, rather than eat greasy fish. They flew off and came back a while later, with handfuls of walnuts. They then proceeded to spend the better part of two hours knocking the nuts out of the shells. What was the hurry?

_"We had better go now,"_ Helen said, wiping her dark brown hands off on the ground. Everybody else moodily shuffled off the ground and they started to walk, using the atlas page as their guide.

"Look at that," Rob said, pointing. They could all see why it was called Peacock Heights.

The mountain was a green point against royal purple and blue skies, mingled with the black cloud cover. It was so pretty, yet so far away, Susan noted with dismay.

"How much longer until we stop?" asked Gerald wearily, as they had been walking for some hours and he was beginning to tire. The rest of the group was too, as their brisk pace had slowed to a drag. Sunny whimpered and licked at a pawsore footpad. Helen shook her head.

_"Not here. We're out in the open, aren't we?"_

Susan nodded and shaded her eyes. _"There's a clump of trees over there - lets try and make it to shelter before nightfall."_

The grove of trees turned out to be thick with crabapples and nuts, on which they feasted until their stomachs were sore from so much expansion. The fivesome attempted to erect a shelter out of mud and sticks, but since it kept on collapsing, they thought it best just to sleep in the hole they had dug the dirt out of to make the shelter.

# # #

"This is getting tedious," Salazar remarked. Rowena slapped the back of his head.

"Well, I don't remember _you_ being a marathon runner when you were alive," she pointed out acidly, folding her arms.

Godric had decided to give his trumpet a rest for the moment, and was polishing the horn until it gleamed like sunshine. "Yeah, Salazar," he said helpfully.

The man narrowed his dark eyes, so that he actually looked reminiscent of a snake. "And I don't recall _you_ being _Mozart_."

Helga was sketching in the corner with a ghostly hand. "I'm sorry you find it tedious, Salazar," she said with perfect patience, "but I don't see a thing we can do about it. Why don't you come over here for a second? I'll draw you."

Rowena smiled. Helga certainly had a knack for finding people's vainly weak spots. Salazar nearly puffed up with pride, and he sauntered over to where Helga was sitting, and struck up a valiant pose.

"How's this?" he asked. Helga had to bite her tongue very hard to keep from laughing.

"Very good," she replied in a strangled voice, gently drawing her quill along in a human shape.

# # #

"Just thought you'd like to know," the elder Mr. Malfoy said, looking up from his newspaper, "that one of those Gryffindor twins has died."

"You don't say," Draco remarked, looking uninterested. He was busy with a very complex algebraic problem that included the English Trade Deficit and the Malfoy's own wealth. After a few more minutes of toying around with a math problem that he did not wholly understand, Draco came to a consensus: his family was insanely rich. Moodily he rolled up the parchment and left the room with it clenched in his fist.

_I need a hobby,_ he thought to himself as he tore through the several rooms of his manor at a fast trot. Living in a large house always gave him the urge to move fast when he was a little boy - which he never did of course, for fear of his father - but who was going to stop him now? He felt that if he wanted to, he could have run into oblivion. Eventually, though, he turned into a spare room and sat down, wheezing slightly. The stigma of the Dark Mark peeked slightly out from under his rolled-up sleeve, and her rolled the sleeve back down again.

Society was such a stupid thing. Everybody with the brains of a pastry knew that the Malfoys were deeply involved in the Dark Arts. Yet everybody turned a blind eye to the sour eye candy of it, for the Malfoys were a prime source of money. That's all you needed to get by in this world - money to grease some joints, and a title and fear didn't hurt much either. That's all it was. All it was.

He rubbed at the arm that bore his tattoo. He had never in his life been called to help serve his lord - Voldemort had not been seen in a long time, but Draco was certain that he was out there brooding, making his time. His father kept on assuring him that any week now, the Dark Lord would become manifest, and that he and the other elite's would benefit and prosper. Draco wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Secretly, he would have been just has happy teetering around the high-class society, and to hell with the Dark Lord.

What if he did call for Draco and his father? What would he do? Would he go and serve until death, victory, or Azkaban, which ever came first? Would he not go at all? What would happen to him if he refused to go?

Maybe...

_No,_ he told himself firmly, _it's not going to get her back. She's gone. Stop deluding yourself._

It was hard to stop deluding himself by telling his soul other lies about how he didn't care anymore. He did. It was shameful to admit, but he did. After getting his heart torn out and trampled, he still cared. And the worst part was he didn't know _why_. He hated feeling weak and naked. It wasn't fair. But then he looked at his Dark Mark again and came to another conclusion about his life - 

It wasn't meant to be fair.

# # #

As the four approached the mountainside, blazing green danced inside Helen's eyes, stabbing her pupils with painful little knives. It hurt - quite the same magnitude that it did much earlier when the fog enshrouded them at Hogwarts - but she didn't cry. In fact, she hadn't said so much as a peep about the pain. She wasn't the same Helen that left her beloved school and home, she wasn't going to cry over evil light. She knew that the light around Peacock Heights would be evil anyway. They walked in silence, Gerald occasionally throwing a stick for Sunny to run after, until Susan coughed.

_"You know, I would really like a bath right about now," _she pointed out. Rob sighed defeatedly.

"Do you know where a spring would be?" he asked. 

_"Just a moment."_ She sprang into the air, soaring around the area for a bit, before pointing in an easterly direction, towards a small grove of trees that was slightly out of their way.

The others followed Susan's lead, and in three hours, they were very parched and were in the clump of trees.

A babbling brook about three feet deep ran through the grove, and tiny golden fish darted around the ivory rocks, and several trees were dripping with fruits. 

_"Ladies first,"_ Helen said, eager to get rid of over two weeks of grit. _"Don't peek."_

She hurriedly ducked behind a thick fur tree and pulled off what was left of her robe, before splashing into the horribly cold water that felt wonderful after being out in the sun for so long. Splashing sounds from around a bend in the river told her that Susan was doing the same. Helen paddled about in the shallow brook for a while; ducking underwater and trying to catch one of the miniscule fishes, but they always escaped a second before her palm could close around them.

She didn't want to get out, but soon her skin became numb, and she tiredly crawled out of the water. Stretching out of the bank to dry, she lazily plucked a fuzzy-feeling peach from a tree and began to eat the sweet pulp hungrily. She hadn't felt so content in a long time.

After the sun had dried her, she ambled her way back to camp, where the others were waiting. While the boys scampered off to take their own baths, Susan drew closer to Helen, her ebony hair bouncing off her neck lightly. The red sun was setting beyond the horizon, and the moon was rising, tinting the black clouds a rosy-silver. 

_"Tomorrow we climb it,"_ Susan said, meaning the mountain. _"I suggest we get some sleep."_

There was the sound of weight bearing down onto grass, and soon the noise of snoring. Helen stayed up for a bit, feeling the last rays of sunlight settle onto her skin. Green light tugged at the corners of her blind eyes, telling her that the peace of the day wasn't to last. Sighing, stomach tightening into a knot, she lay back against the soft green grass and fell into a deep slumber.

# # # 

**_A golden dog scampered across long, gray expansions of nothingness, the same nothingness that he had found Her in. But this time She wasn't there. It was just the dog, running, running, running. He struggled to keep up, but the dog was fading farther and farther away._**

"Sunny!" he called. "Sunny, wait!" She didn't wait. She was gone.

He stopped, feeling very alone all of a sudden. Something brushed against his leg. He looked down, and there, right beside him in the nothingness was a golden-haired cat, with occasional orange stripes in the fur, expressing co-dominance in a whole new fashion.

"Meow," said the cat, and it looked up. He gasped. 

The cat had bright blue eyes.

# # #

Gerald was brought around the next morning by something rough and slightly damp stroking his nose. 

"Neerga," he said unintelligibly, trying to roll over. There was a sharp nip on his ear, and he sat up abruptly, throwing whatever was on him at the moment, off him. Gerald opened his eyes and looked down at an orange and golden tabby, which was swishing her tail, reflecting him in her bright blue eyes.

"Sunny?" he asked, after a couple of lightheaded moments. The cat purred.

"You're really starting to freak me out," he whispered, locking eyes with the cat. The cat - did that cat _grin_? - turned around and went to the spring to catch itself some breakfast. Gerald stood still for a moment, and looked over his shoulder. The other three were still soundly asleep.

"Good to have you back, Grace," he said as the cat was slinking around a tree trunk. The cat turned around and gave a soft growl before retreating back in the bushes.

Feeling better - like a thousand pounds of bricks had been lifted off his shoulders - Gerald went to collect his own breakfast from the fruit trees.

# # #

_"Do we really have to do this?"_ whispered Susan, looking up at the tall mountain slightly knock-kneed. Helen placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, both for Susan's sake and her own.

_"Yes,"_ she said defiantly, though green and red were exploding under her eyelids like firecrackers.

Rob swallowed, quaking, and looked and Gerald, who was looking up at the mountainside ponderously, with Sunny the cat on his shoulder. Rob had inquired into the cat's appearance, and didn't get too concrete of an answer. He already had his own theories about Sunny, but he kept them to himself.

"Come on," Gerald said, digging his walking stick into the soft moss, taking a step up the craggy peak. Rob followed, and Susan and Helen took to the air.

Queen Peacock was not a forgiving mountain. There were several very steep places which Rob and Gerald had to be carried over, lest they lose traction and fall off the side of the rock. There were also many abysses, and the mountain air got thin rapidly, affecting everybody's breathing patterns. Several times everybody lost their footing and slid down about twenty feet. Part of the mountain was oddly covered in sand, making their feet slip and sink into the graininess of it. The going was rough, and they had to stop a number of times, or collapse from exhaustion. 

Rob was now walking with his head bowed, halfway between retching and passing out, reaching a hand up and grasping about for a hold. Sweat soaked his body, plastering his copper hair to the back of his neck. He collapsed in the sand to rest for a while.

Susan suddenly screeched. _"Rock slide!"_ she wailed, pointing to a mist of dirt and rumbling up above them. 

"We'll have to go back down!" Gerald cried, scrambling to his feet and loping down the mountain. Helen nearly cried at the speed of going down - they were going to have to do this all over again! - when Gerald emitted a loud yell.

Rob saw Gerald suddenly disappear beyond a large boulder, and Sunny snarled and leapt in after him. Rob had no choice - he ran behind the boulder and spotted a large hole, maybe five feet in diameter, with a rocky inside that curved to the left. If he had had the time, he might had debated the wisdom of jumping down a hole into a mountain that might lead to molten lava - but as he looked over his shoulder, he noted it was either take his chances in the hole, or be crushed to death by rolling boulders. 

He jumped in the hole, quickly followed by Susan and Helen.

He sprawled down the tunnel in an ungainly fashion, tripping in somersault after somersault, banging his head repeatedly on the rock walls until little white stars danced in front of his eyes. The constant tumbling made his stomach knot, and he started to retch, and the tumbling threw it back into his face, up his nostrils - oh, it was horrid.

It all stopped, throwing Rob face first into something hard, and he quickly stumbled to his feet, still retching, head spinning, crying, and he tried to get a grope on his surroundings.

He was indeed inside Queen Peacock. The floor was lava that had long since cooled, giving the ground a marbleized effect. The walls were ashy black, with a stream of sunlight coming in from the ceiling. When his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw that cloudcover was actually _inside_ the mountain, thicker than he had ever seen it. A black rock protruded out of the cooled lava. Gerald was standing off to the side, and Rob joined him. Gerald was just as soiled as Rob himself was, and a thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. Sunny was on the ground washing herself. 

Two more thumping noises came from the rock tunnel, and Susan and Helen appeared. They had fared a little better than the two boys, being able to wrap their wings around themselves, but Susan's left wing was slightly askew, and her face was taut with pain, telling Rob and Gerald that it was probably broken. Helen looked sickly as well, as green light blared around her.

_"Where are we?"_ whispered Susan. The slight noise echoed a thousand times around the inside of the mountain, as the place had awesome acoustics, and was big enough for a formal banquet. Everybody else shrugged. They were standing silently, before Sunny the cat's fur stood on end, and she bared her teeth, hissing, tail swishing. 

"What is it?" asked Gerald, afraid to touch her.

Sunny didn't acknowledge him, only kept on hissing. In a lithe movement, the cat had bounded from Gerald's ankles, near the rock in the center of the mountain. Cautiously, unless the lava rock was going to give way, they all made their way to it. In crooked letters - like the carver was in a hurry, there were words on the rock. 

I am never quite what I appear to be. Straightforward I seem, but it's only skin deep, for mystery often lies beneath my simple speech. Sharpen your wits, open your eyes, look beyond my exteriors, read me backwards, forwards, upside down. Think critically and answer the question... What am I? 

It didn't even rhyme, but it was poetic in an odd way. Yet, it didn't make sense. Susan read it aloud to Helen, who frowned. Sunny leapt up to the rock, and scratched her nails on the boulder, making them all wince.

"I don't get it," Rob said sickly, feeling his nose, which was probably broken. They were all silent again, thinking. Sunny rubbed up against Helen's leg, and a flicker of awareness flooded her senses, then went out again. She frowned. She had almost had it...

"Riddle!" they all cried in unison. "It's a riddle!"

"Funny." a voice echoed. The four threw themselves against the wall, Sunny kept on hissing. The voice was no louder than softly breaking glass, but it sounded of nails on a chalkboard, a knife slicing deftly though flesh, a scream before a murder. That voice was nearly worse than the ride through the tunnel. "I have never really liked cats."

They looked around the room, for somebody, some_thing_, but there was nothing there. Only the walls and the eerie indoor cloud cover. They were silent, and lightning flashed. 

Sunny was gone.

Gerald screamed, running out into the middle of the mountain, looking around wildly. "What did you do to her? You can't do that!" he cried.

That horrible voice chucked softly. "But of course I can. I can do anything. I created this world. I am invincible."

Gerald felt black cloud hands wrap around his throat like a strangling vine. He gasped for air, tried to reach up to pull the hands off, only to find his hands touched moisture, nothing more. They were cloud hands. His vision blanked out.

# # #

Grace found herself as a ghostly girl, standing in a vibrantly colored field, with rolling hills. At first she was certain she was dead, and she had gone to Heaven - or to Hell - but her mind was soon changed when she saw black figures coming over the horizon. She squinted at them, and they came closer and closer to her, until they were right under her nose.

They were very short - short like children - robed in black. Their faces were hooded, and they joined hands and started dancing around her, singing a chanting song.

__

Violators of peace, desecrators of love,

Chilling murders in cold blood,

How do we do this all, you ask?

For it's so easy beyond the mask...

Round and round, faster and faster until their bodies were in a little black whirl. Grace sucked in her ghostly bottom lip.

_Death Eaters_, she thought.

# # #

Helen, Susan and Rob stood, paralyzed by fear and awe as hands strangled Gerald. He went limp, and the hands tossed him carelessly against the wall. He fell with a dull thud, and Helen was the first one to come to her senses and she ran over to the area where she thought Gerald was and grabbed his body. He had a pulse. It was faint, but a pulse.

_"We can't fight him,"_ Helen whispered, before gathering Gerald in her arms with difficulty, and clumsily flapping back to where the other two were.

"Who are you?" Rob asked the shadow dully. He wasn't stupid. He knew who the shadow was. But maybe if he could stall... an invisible hand slapped him across the face. Unused to being handled like that, he fell to the floor. 

"Don't waste time," that voice said again, icily. "You know who I am. The Creator of this world."

__

"Voldemort. Tom Riddle." Susan said, teeth chattering, not from cold, because hot sweat poured down her back. She was nervous. _"Cute way to introduce yourself."_ The cloud formation chuckled.

"Yes," it said. "It was a lot of work to get you here, but now that you are..."

_"What do you want with us?"_ Helen asked, propping Gerald's head on her knees. She wasn't stalling. She wanted to know. The clouds shifted.

"When your parents left me in this universe, I was little more than stray atoms floating on the wind. I can't hold a shape in my own world anymore. If I ever set foot in your world, I would dissipate into nothing. But I survived. I created my own shape-" the clouds swayed "-and here I am. I need you, because I am going to make this long dormant volcano work again."

"That doesn't explain anything," Rob muttered in a muffled voice, as his cheek was starting to bruise madly. The clouds snorted.

"I need the energy of young bodies to set off the volcano," Voldemort said.

_"Why not somebody else?"_ Helen asked. _"Why us?"_

Susan could almost see the clouds smile cruelly. "Let's just say I have a score to settle with your dams and sire."

Rob's bottom lip curled under. So this was all just a vindictive gesture from Voldemort to their parents. All of this suffering and a death had resulted from being caught in the middle.

Voldemort wasn't done. "It was ingenious, getting you here. I had to change your shape - make you other people - or else the sudden invasion of alien beings into another dimension would have created utter chaos. You would have been instantly destroyed. And we can't have that, can we?"

Rob felt something of a hand brush through his hair. His skin bubbled into goosebumps.

"So, I integrated you into the fabric of Sapius - but I didn't change your minds. Oh, no. That wouldn't have been _any_ fun."

Susan had to bite her lip until it dripped blood. Cussing out Voldemort was like asking for a death warrant to be signed.

"I impregnated the riddles - didn't you have fun with those? - and now you're here, and I can activate the volcanoes."

"Why would you want to activate the volcanoes?" asked Rob. "That would, you know, _destroy_ the world."

"Exactly," Voldemort said coolly. "Can't have all these people mucking about, messing up my work. I control the minds of the people here, but I can only tamper with one at a time. Killing them _all_ would take years."

Helen was reminded of Yizeer's strange behavior when they had asked him if he were married or not. It was like he was being controlled. Well, this proved that they had been being controlled. By clouds. The thought would have been humorous if it wasn't so deadly true.

"A few times I slipped... almost let you know, like with your Luftwing friend. Writer's block can be lethal."

_"Writer's block,"_ Susan said, trying to control her rage. She obtained a fierce headache as a result.

_We can't fight this,_ Helen thought, cradling Gerald gently. _He can do anything. We can't..._

"And you won't get away so easily," the terrible voice went on. "For this time, I have help..."

The lava rock cracked in a thousand places, and white-hot steam seeped out, turning the inside of the mountain into a sauna. White was all anybody could see, until there was a green explosion.

The Dark Mark shot up into the air, freezing everybody's blood in his or her veins.

# # #

Draco and Alexandre - home on Thanksgiving break - were in the library. Alexandre hopped up from his seat to get another book to help him with his Transfigurations assignment, when the French doors to the library burst open; the force carrying them so far back that they bounced against the wall. In the doorway stood a very deranged Lucius Malfoy.

"It's time," he said.

"Time for-" Draco started, but he bit the sentence off as a wretched burning pain erupted on his left arm, the arm with the Dark Mark tattooed on it. He gasped and doubled over, clutching his limb.

"Father?" Alexandre asked, confused. "Grandfather? What's going on?" The boy dropped his book and ran up to his father, tugging on his sleeve. 

"Let go of me, Alexandre," Draco ordered tightly, face contorted with agonizing pain. Alexandre was about to obey, but Lucius had brought his wand down, resulting in a loud crack.

All three of them disappeared from the library, into thin air.

# # #

Black robed figures with large hoods appeared out of nowhere around the perimeter of the inside of the mountain, breaking into the white mist. Terrified, the three dragged Gerald into the center of the circle, where nobody seemed to be. Circle after circle of black-clad figures, until there were at least nine ovals of them surrounding them. There was, indeed, no way out. All of them were trembling slightly, but the cloud mass that was Voldemort was taking no notice of them at the moment, and addressed his Death Eaters.

"Glad you could make it," he said coolly.

"Yes, Master," was the echo of the figures around the circle.

# # #

"STOP IT!" Grace yelled at the figures, who were still chanting. "YOU'RE DRIVING ME INSANE!"

They still didn't stop, and Grace took a wild swing at one of the Death Eaters, and it popped its hood off. That one stopped, and the other millions of the dropped hands and went on skipping.

This Eater had two heads, both of which looked very apologetic, both of which looked familiar.

"Alexandre?" Grace asked, breathless. "Mr. Malfoy?" Oh, this was strange.

# # #

During the special apparition charm used during gatherings of Death Eaters, all those that bore the Mark were instantly clad in one of the huge robes that were uniform of the Death Eaters. Those that came along by accident or by finding out the secret charm were not. Draco looked around from under his hood, and heard a distinct whimper from beside him.

It was Alexandre, shaking and cowering beside his father. "You do support the Eaters, then," the boy whispered in an accusing voice. "You're a lie. You live a lie."

Draco didn't say anything, but he knew that if he didn't find something to hide Alexandre with soon, they were both lost. 

"Under here," Draco said, indicating the large robe, deciding to overlook his son's insolence at the moment. Alexandre instantly obeyed, dropping to his knees and crawling under the Death Eater robe.

There was ample room under the fabric, and Draco was still wearing his everyday robe, which made it very hot. Even so, Alexandre pressed as close to his father as humanly possible, and Draco felt small arms close around his rib cage, shivering.

"Keep quiet, you hear?" Draco asked, retracting his arms inside his robe and smoothing his son's hair out of his eyes. He then averted his attention back to what was going on.

Voldemort had stopped talking, and the Death Eaters were gathering around something. Draco clumsily ambled forward with Alexandre shuffling along behind.

He recognized the scene immediately. Three children were clustered around a fourth - who was presumably dead or unconscious - attempting to look brave, but it was hard to when hundreds of grim-reaper personalities were moshing towards you. 

"Stop," Voldemort said abruptly. The Eaters did so, obediently. "I detect a liar amongst us."

An alarmed murmur swept through the crowd. Had an Auror found them out? Was there a spy? Draco's heart felt like it had exploded in his chest, and Alexandre let escape a loud sob of fear.

"I thought so," Voldemort said quietly. A sudden swoosh of magic went through the crowd, and a magnetic force was pulling Alexandre away from Draco, getting stronger and more insistent by the moment.

"No, Father, no," Alexandre whispered in a strained voice, terrified tears tracing down his face. "Don't let me go... don't let him get me... Father, Father, please..."

A lump grew manifest in Draco's throat. His arms were already beginning to quake from the strain. He looked at his son, grappling at him like a deranged squid, and the youth of Alexandre dawned upon him.

_He's just a boy... _ And Draco's strength gave out. Alexandre shot towards the center of the round room.

_"What is going..."_ Helen trailed off. Her head whipped abruptly around at the sound of Alexandre smacking the ground behind her. _"Alexandre?!"_

Alexandre didn't answer, and was far from his usual composed self. His face was red, and crystalline tears streamed down his face in torrents. A hand snaked down from the clouds and wrapped itself under Alexandre's chin, snapping his neck back.

"Well well well. Who do we have here?" Voldemort asked softly. Perhaps he didn't recognize the Malfoy line because Alexandre's face was so overbright. "A little _spy_, perhaps?"

Alexandre's only reply was a strangled sob. Susan's heart broke for him, but she was too afraid to intervene.

The tendril glowed bright red, and a single whisper that seemed to come from everywhere echoed.

"Crucio."

# # #

"Is _this _dramatic enough for you, Salazar?" asked Rowena, who was in tears.

"Shut your mouth!" Salazar yelled.

"What can we do?" inquired Godric, who was bending the neck of his trumpet in his nervousness. 

"Semvara!" wailed Helga.

# # #

The screams were almost too much to bear. There were no more tears, but the cries of anguish and the indistinguishable pleas for mercy were enough to make Rob be sick. Gerald came groggily around, and looked about. He didn't need an explanation.

Draco felt his heart tearing in two, crumbling, breaking, shattering into nothing over and over again. The screams from his son went on and on and on. Finally, Voldemort stopped, and Alexandre fell to the floor.

"Will you talk?" asked Voldemort silkily. "Or do we need a little more convincing?" Alexandre just sobbed, voice hoarse.

_"Make it stop,"_ Helen whispered. _"Make this nightmare stop!"_

"You still won't say anything? Well then..."

"NO!" The rings of Death Eaters were burst open, and one of them ran forth and gathered Alexandre in his arms. Alexandre grabbed folds of the Death Eater's clothes and buried his face in them, trying to control the pain. "He's just a child, Master," the Eater said. "It was an accident..."

Susan knew that voice. She reached forward and pulled the hood back. Draco Malfoy pulled off the ground and looked at her.

Susan looked back into those eyes, and a wave of betrayal and sadness washed over her. "Mom was _right_! You're _terrible_!" she cried, her broken wing flapping uselessly. She burst into tears at the sudden onslaught and ran back to her group, trying to collect herself. Draco stared hard at her for a moment, before waving his wand.

# # #

Hayley, Gabriel, Seamus, Sarah, Chenelle, Robert and Hannah were eating a sober dinner of cold soup when an explosion erupted above their heads, and of all things, Draco Malfoy appeared on the oak table, one foot in the soup pot.

There was stunned silence for a moment. "What the hell do _you_ want?!" asked Sarah irately.

"How did you-" Robert wanted to know. Draco stamped his foot hard on the table, readjusting Alexandre in his arms to keep from dropping him.

"Will you _listen to me_?" he asked. "I happen to know where your children are, if you'd care to come."

"Prove it," Chenelle said finally.

"Don't you believe me?" asked Draco, an ironic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"No," Sarah said definitely, crossing her arms. Draco sighed, and noted that they were all touching the table. He shrugged his shoulder and snapped his wand down.

All of them were gone.

# # #

When they materialized again, Sarah's first action was to slap Draco across the face as hard as she could.

"I guess I deserved that," Draco said lightly, massaging his cheek.

"HELEN!" Hayley cried, reaching over and hugging her daughter so hard that Helen thought her ribs would crack.

The other's attention was likewise to their own children, Gabriel and Seamus weeping. For now, the Dark Lord's attention was on Draco.

"Traitor." The word made it's way through the ranks of the Death Eaters. The red tendril that carried the Crucio curse snaked down, and was about to wrap itself around Draco, when there was a black blur to the left that smashed into Draco, the force carrying him away.

"You are the biggest ass I know," Lucius Malfoy said from under his hood, getting off his son.

"Don't remind me," Draco said bitterly.

# # #

"The wands!" Helga cried.

# # #

Rob was staring at the spectacle, feeling his world turn upside down. Something pressed itself into his hands. He looked at it. It was his wand! Looking around, he found that the others had gotten their wands back too. Now the question that was on everybody's mind: What now?

_Break it_, a voice whispered in his ear. They all stood stupidly for a moment, before Gerald took charge and snapped the wood between his foot and the ground. White sparks emitted from the ends, drifting towards the blackness. Voldemort yelled, and the Death Eaters rippled in anger.

Snap, snap, snap, went three more wands. Three more barrages of white sparks went to the ceiling. After a few more moments of struggling, Voldemort laughed.

"There's only four of you!" he mocked. 

# # #

"The power of five!" Grace cried, snapping her own wand.

# # # 

A whirl of color erupted over the mountain, raining sparks. They all absorbed into the hands of the four, sparking, sparking... white energy belted in a scythe-shaped beam from Rob's fingers.

"Semvara!" Robert said, looking in awe at his son. "They're Semvara!"

"Attack! Go now! I command you!" Voldemort screamed. Frightened, the five children slapped their hands together, in hopes of making a more powerful beam... and a vortex appeared.

It grew, and grew.

"Dimension Vortex!" Chenelle cried. "Into it!"

They obeyed, falling into a white hole, falling, falling falling falling falling....

# # #

Sweet grass met Helen's face, and she inhaled the friendly air, the scents that were home. Confused voices filled her senses, and she dimly felt somebody hoisting her up, and her face touched something blissfully soft. She knew no more.

# # #

"What a story," Professor Potter said wonderingly. He slapped his knees and rose from his chair. The foursome looked morosely at him from their beds in the infirmary. "It will make one hell of a legend someday."

Susan sighed and leaned back, still not used to the fact that she no longer had wings. They had been lost in the transit back to her own world, because there were no equivalent of Luftwings in her world. The thought of never flying again almost brought tears to her eyes. She was exhausted a wan, and wanted nothing more than to sleep and never wake up again.

"How's Mummy?" she asked weakly. Professor Potter raised his eyebrows.

"Well, if I can ever peel her away from Draco, I'd say she's fine."

"What do you mean?"

"As soon as you four are better, the wedding will be held."

They got better soon after that.

# # #

Susan thought she had never seen her mother look more beautiful. Her ringlets were furled up into a swirl at the back of her head, and secured with white roses. The white dress trailed along the ground and swirled about like a cloud. The gold that dangled from her ears and wrists sparkled in the candlelight. The veil that covered her face was lighter than mist.

"You look gorgeous, Mum," she said. Sarah smiled.

"I feel silly," she admitted. "I'd rather do this in my comfy old robes. But, Luke insisted..."

Susan giggled and fixed her own dress, which were of a deep green shade, as to match her eyes. 

The music started. Sarah inhaled a breath through her teeth and exhaled slowly. "Let's go, maid of honor," she said to her daughter. "Come on, 'Father'," she said to Gerald, who grinned. He was the one that got to 'give Sarah away'.

Little Erika Potter was the flower girl, and everybody oohed and ahhed as she teetered down the carpet, thowing handfuls of white rose petals. Sarah followed at a more gracious pace; interlocking arms with Gerald and Susan trailed, holding the veil.

The bridesmaids, Carolyn and Helen, followed them, both dressed in frilly yellow. Draco stood, grinning at the altar, with Alexandre as his best man. Rob sat placidly in the crowd, as Christopher fiddled with the ringbearers pillow. It was all so beautiful, and beyond it all, inconspicuous as anything, a yellow and orange cat with bright blue eyes followed, stately as anything.

Sarah made it to the altar, and the priest started, but neither the groom nor bride knew what he was saying. They knew each other's eyes. They knew the feeling of skin. Of love.

"...Till death do you part?" asked the priest.

"I do," Draco said, deep baritone voice racking the church.

"And do you, Sarah Elizabeth Slytherin..." Sarah wasn't listening. She saw that Draco wasn't either.

"I do," Sarah said. There was a smile from the crowd as a whole.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Draco did so.

# # #

The reception was wonderful, and Sarah threw the bouquet, there was a mad dash for it, ending in a broken punch bowl, and an upset plant. Erika won the bouquet by default, simply because Helen, Susan and Carolyn took themselves out.

The first time that Draco threw the garter, Alexandre and Gerald watched it fall to the floor, neither of them attempting to go after it.

"I don't want to be the owner of my stepmother's _garter_," Alexandre said with distaste. Gabriel promptly gave them both a smack over the heads and proclaimed that she'd throw _them_ if they didn't try for the garter. The next time it was thrown, there was a mad dash for it, and it hit Alexandre in the face.

It was now nearing the end of the reception, and the four sleepy children stole a few moments to speak to each other before the rest of the group bombarded them with questions.

"God, it's been a long year so far," Gerald said, looking very old.

"It's not over yet," Rob reminded him, pushing his new glasses up his nose. Susan passed around small wineglasses.

"To us!" she said, grinning, waving her maid of honor's bouquet in the air.

"To us!" three other voices chimed in as the glasses tinkled. Sunny the cat, which was sitting on Gerald's shoulder, howled in agreement.

"Where did you get that cat at?" Seamus said, looking at it. "Is it a stray?"

"I don't think it belongs to anybody around here," Gerald said innocently. "Perhaps we could keep it?"

And since nobody ever found out where the strange gold-and-orange cat came from, that is exactly what they did.

THE END

# # #

A/N: Well! I don't have much to say here. ^_~ Just read and review and tell me what you think.

~Moxie ^_^

Disclaimer: This stuff is mine, that stuff isn't.


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